Paging Mary Poppins
by OyHumbug
Summary: Elizabeth is new in town, 21, and looking for a job. Jason Morgan has just been given his friend's son to take care of and look after as his own. Things get interesting when Miss Webber shows up at the moblord's door looking to for a job. Slightly AU.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Okay, so there are a few things you have to know about this story. First of all, Elizabeth has been aged slightly so that what happens in this story is feasible and not illegal. LOL Secondly, when Carly left after giving birth to Michael, in this storyline, she never came back. Robin is in Paris, Bobbie already knows that she's Carly's biological Mother, and, because Liz has been aged, she was never raped, never dated or loved Lucky, and is not friends with any of the "musketeers." Enjoy!_

Charlynn

**Paging Mary Poppins**

Chapter One

"I need a break," Jason Morgan announced gruffly, scrubbing a work worn hand over his tired face. "Send the rest of them away, and tell them to come back later."

"What rest of them? You've managed to go through every applicant in less than an hour, and we're nowhere closer to hiring a nanny for Michael," Johnny pointed out. "Do you want me to call Bobbie and see if she has any other suggestions, or maybe I could help you go over the resumes the interviewees have left behind so we could find one or two of them back to call back for a second shot?"

His boss's response was to leave the door open for him to walk through and to toss the manila folder of resumes in his lap after he had taken a seat on the couch. While the bodyguard flipped it open to peer inside, he watched out of the corner of his eye as his boss sat down in the chair across from him and dejectedly slumped against the soft material. The fact that he was sitting at all and forlornly at that told Johnny he was treading on thin ice, that the slightest provocation could send his employer over the edge into a very messy, very dangerous fit of rage. Seeing Jason in such a mood was rare; normally the man was cool and collected under pressure, so, deciding it was best to simply follow orders, he went straight to work.

"Okay, so applicant number one," he started, skimming the woman's credentials and work history, "Betsy Russell has been a nanny for various respected families for the past forty years, she comes highly recommended, and even has a degree in elementary education, so she would be great with Michael when he starts school." Looking up at his boss, Johnny's confusion was written plainly across his face. "What's wrong with this one?"

"Look at her age."

Doing as he was told, the bodyguard read the number off of the page. "She's 63. Who cares? You do know it's illegal to discriminate against applicants because of their age?"

"Look," Jason snapped, glaring at his employee, "you didn't see her walk. It was obvious she has bad knees, and, with the stairs, I can't risk her falling when she's carrying Michael."

"Don't you think that should be her decision to determine if she's capable of taking care of a child, of moving up and down a flight of stairs," he asked the mob lord hesitantly.

"Next applicant," his boss snapped.

"Mary Waters," Johnny read off the chart. "Once again, she comes highly recommended from her previous employers, she's not as old as the previous applicant, only in her late thirties, and, oh, man, this one can cook. I say we hire her."

"There's no we in this," his boss contradicted him, "and she has ties to the Quartermaines. She's their cook's daughter, and that's just too close for comfort. Next."

"Okay, applicant number three, Theresa Rodriguez, is a mother herself who raised….nine kids. Man, that's crazy! Could you imagine having nine kids running around a house all day long? I think I'd go insane."

"She's out," Jason dismissed the candidate.

"Why, I don't get it," the bodyguard questioned. "She's young enough, and she definitely has experience with children."

"Because she refuses to work for a man who is a single parent, whose child was born out of wedlock – her words, not mine."

"Alright, the fourth applicant is in their twenties, has previously worked at a daycare, and can speak several different languages fluently. Hey man," Johnny interjected his own opinion, "that's kind of cool. They could teach Michael to be bi-lingual. Let's see, this one's name is….Danny McClimans." His eyes flew up to meet those of his employer. "Dude, he's a manny!"

"And if you don't help me find someone," the older man threatened, "guess what your new title is going to be after you're demoted? So, if I were you, I'd keep your snide little comments to yourself."

"Right, boss."

"However, he's not an option," Jason continued, "and it's not because he's a guy. He was very upfront about the fact that he supports the idea of corporal punishment."

"He likes to smack kids around?"

"Just move on to the next applicant," the mob lord ordered.

"Interviewee number five, named Rita Nelson, used to be a school nurse. That should come in handy," the bodyguard pointed out trying to be helpful. "She's in her forties, so she's young enough, and she's not against also helping out with the cleaning."

"She smells bad."

"And Mrs. Nelson is out. What about this one," Johnny continued, turning to the resume of the sixth applicant. "Her name is Julianne Lipinski, she used to be employed as a governess, so you know she has the training, and she already lives in the building, so that's handy. Sure, she's 52, but I'm sure she's still capable of getting up and down stairs."

Jason adamantly shook his head no before explaining his objections. "She hit on me."

"Well isn't that just an added bonus," the bodyguard teased, smirking at his own joke, but his boss simply glared at him ending that discussion. Clearing his throat, the young doorman moved his eyes back to the manila folder to peer at the next candidate's resume. "Alright, next we have Edith Wharton who's a children's book author. Even you've got to admit that that's pretty cool." Looking up at his boss for a reaction, Johnny was greeted with a sour, cold, unmoving mask of no emotion. "Or not," he mumbled before continuing. "She's 39 and a mother herself with two kids both in college. What was wrong with this applicant?"

"She took the five minutes she was here to give me a lecture on the evils of racketeering."

"Moving on," the younger man announced, turning to the eighth interviewee. "Constance Philips, work experience includes working at a nursing home and with handicapped children, she's new in town so there's a good chance she won't have a predisposed inclination to judge you, and she's young enough to be mobile on stairs."

"She also has a record," Jason pointed out. "There was something about her that I just didn't trust, so I made a quick phone call to Benny and had him run a background check on her, and it turns out she was fired from her last two jobs for stealing medical supplies."

"What the hell is wrong with nannies today," the bodyguard exploded, tossing the folder aside. "Is it really that hard to find someone with a cheery disposition who is still qualified as a childcare provider? Where have all the Mary Poppins gone?"

Looking at his employee as if he had gone insane, the mob boss questioned, "what the hell are you talking about?"

"Never mind, it doesn't matter," Johnny muttered under his breath. "This is ridiculous," he groused, motioning towards the discarded pile of resumes he had carelessly pushed away. "No wonder you needed a break." Curious or perhaps he was a glutton for punishment, he inquired, "what was wrong with the other four people you interviewed?"

"One reeked of whisky, so, because it's only ten in the morning, I assumed she was an alcoholic. Another one tried to light a cigarette while she was sitting here, and there's no way I'm letting Michael around second hand smoke. The third wasn't comfortable with living here, so they declined the position, and the last one made Michael cry as soon as he saw her, so I figured that was a bad sign."

"This is hopeless," the bodyguard lamented, sympathizing with his employer. "You're never going to find a nanny."

"Well, if I don't," the older man proclaimed rationally, "you guys are just going to have to help me pick up some of the slack. When there's a meeting I have to go to, one of you will stay here with Michael. I'm sure between you, Max, and Francis you'll be able to take care of him when I can't."

"Why us," Johnny complained.

"Because of all the men, I trust the three of you the most," Jason answered, watching his employee closely. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"What, me, of course not, boss," the bodyguard lied through his teeth as he quickly made his way across the penthouse's living room and towards the door. "You know we all adore the little guy. In fact, I think I'll just step outside and call Max and Francis right now to let them know. Or, maybe that's them," he insisted when there was a light knock on the door. "I'll just….," he signaled towards the door, insinuating that he'd answer it.

"Yeah, you do that," Jason growled, his intense, exasperated gaze burning daggers into the younger man's back. "It's only your job," he grumbled as he stood up from the chair, tossed the folder of applicants in the trash, and moved to make his way upstairs to check on the sleeping baby he was attempting to find a nanny for. Intent upon his purpose, he tuned out Johnny's voice and that of the woman standing in the doorway, not even bothering to look at her.

"Hey boss," a hesitant Johnny called out to the retreating figure of his employer.

"Not now, O'Brien!"

"Maybe not, but I really think you're going to want to meet with this applicant. She's just your type…," he teased, unable to help himself, "of nanny. She's got all the right recommendations for the job, she's definitely fit, so you won't have to worry about her not being able to make it up the stairs, and I don't think it's even possible for her to have a single vice."

The mob lord could hear the innuendos laced in his bodyguard's words, but, as he turned around to yell at him, his eyes caught those of the petite wisp of a brunette standing in his doorway, her slight, feminine frame timid and unsure of itself while her wide, beautiful blue eyes searched his for a hint of warmth and reassurance. Despite himself, the anger he had been feeling towards his doorman disappeared, and it was replaced by a gentle, almost caring appearance as he motioned for the young woman to enter.

"Let her in, Johnny," he ordered, practically taking two steps at a time in his rush to reach her side. "And get her a cup of coffee before you go back to your station. It's cold out. I'm sure she could use something warm to drink."

"No," she blurted out, glancing between the two imposing men, "thank you, but no. I was so nervous about this morning, that I drank a whole pot at my Gram's before I stopped off at that little diner named Kelly's and picked up two more cups. I think if I have any more coffee I might jump out of my own skin." Turning back to the man who had been identified as the boss, she asked, "I'm talking too much already, aren't I? That's a problem I have: rambling. I don't mean to do it, but when I get nervous or I get excited, words just start bubbling up and, no matter what I do, I can't stop them from coming out of my mouth in one fast, incomprehensible stream of mumbles."

"Oh, I understand you perfectly," the bodyguard flirted with her, giving the shy young woman a devious wink and not noticing the lethal glares his boss was sending in his direction.

"Leave," Jason ordered him. Johnny knew that tone, and he knew not to argue with it, so, without another word or even a backwards glance at the latest nanny candidate, he slipped quietly out the door and left the two of them alone. "Sorry about that," he motioned towards his closed entrance that hid his cheeky employee from their view. "Since you don't want any coffee, can I get you something else, water perhaps?"

"No, I'm fine, really," she reassured him. "If you don't mind and if it's not too rude, I'd just rather skip the pleasantries and start the interview. The sooner we begin, the sooner you can tell me you're not interested in hiring me."

"Why do you say that," he questioned her.

"Well, as you'll see when you look at my resume, I don't have much experience with children, and, when I say not much I mean none."

"Neither did I," Jason responded easily, surprising himself when he offered her a slight smile of encouragement. "Before Michael, I'd never even held a baby before."

"That makes two of us," she laughed. He liked the sound of her feminine giggles. They were carefree, genuine, and rang of warmth and generosity. "I'm not even sure why I'm applying for this job," she confessed, "but my Gram said if anyone could get along with a kid, it would be me, so here I am."

"Why would she say that?"

The woman rolled her eyes in a self-deprecating manner, motioning towards the couch for his permission to sit. Once she had his consent, she explained while sitting down. "My family always tells me that I have the mentality of a child, that I've never grown up. They don't understand how I can sit for hours and draw in my sketchpad, how I can find Doug to be quality entertainment, or how I can survive solely on chicken noodle soup, peanut butter sandwiches, and brownies."

"You like to draw?"

"…and paint. I'm an artist," she revealed, playing nervously with her fingers, "or at least I want to be. That's actually another point against me: I'm a full time student at PCU, so you'd have to work around my class schedule which is different every semester, and I realize that could be a pain."

"Not really," he dismissed her concerns. "I'm here a lot during the day, and, if I'm not here, the guys can help out." Glancing down at her resume, he looked at her birth date. "Well, Miss Webber, I see that you're 21, so, what does that make you, a junior?"

"Actually, I'm only a sophomore. That's kind of why I'm here….in Port Charles. I'm originally from Colorado, and I was going to school out there, but I hated it. I was still living at home with my sister who's in med school, I had no freedom, no creative inspiration, and, eventually, I ended up dropping out. Not wanting me to give up on my dreams, my Gram asked me to come and stay with her. I moved out here last fall, and I'm going back to school this semester to try and finish my degree, but, although I love spending time with my Grandma, I really want to be out on my own, supporting myself." Pausing for a minute, she thought better of it and added. "Oh, and it's Elizabeth, please."

"Well, you'd have to live here, Elizabeth" Jason told her tentatively, knowing that the idea could turn her away from the job. "My hours are irregular, and sometimes I get called out late at night, and I want someone here with Michael, but you'd have your own room, your own bathroom, and this place is big enough, you could even have your own studio….to paint in if you wanted."

"Wait a second," she interrupted him, "are you telling me you're actually considering me for the job?"

"Yeah," he said simply. "You're in good health, so you'd be able to take care of a baby. You don't know the Quartermaines, you've shown no objections to me being a single parent, you appear to be clean, someone who doesn't drink and who doesn't smoke…"

"Used to," the young brunette cut him off. "When I was a teenager, I was a hellion in high heels, staying out late, smoking, drinking, skipping school, and I did it all to piss my parents off. However, when I figured out that I really didn't like the taste of cigarettes, that getting drunk made me sick, and that sleeping was a better way of spending my time than hanging out with a bunch of morons who annoyed me, I quit partying."

"That's another thing about you," he added, smirking at her, "your little habit of talking too much and rambling tells me more about you than your resume or a background check ever could. I won't have to worry about you lying to me, because you'd end up spilling the truth anyway. Plus," he continued, "the fact that you're certified in both CPR and first aide makes me feel that Michael would be safe with you."

"Well, when you're a Webber, those are two things you learn way before long division or cursive. My grandfather was and my Dad, Mom, and brother are all doctors, my grandmother is a nurse, and my sister is on her way to becoming a doctor, too. When I told them I wanted to be an artist, let's just say that I was sent in for a battery of tests to make sure that I wasn't suffering from a brain aneurysm or a mental disorder."

"And are you?"

"No brain aneurysm, but they're still on the fence about a mental disorder," she joked making the corners of his mouth turn up in an amused grin, something his men would have paid good money to see. Suddenly, a small cry sounded on the baby monitor sitting on the older man's desk. "Is that the little guy," she questioned, smiling at the thought. "Can I meet him?"

"That's exactly what I was going to suggest," Jason responded. "If Michael likes you, then the job is pretty much yours. Wait here while I go and get him?"

She nodded her head pleasantly while he quickly made his way up the stairs. Within a few minutes, he was back with a smiling newborn in his arms. "Elizabeth, I'd like you to meet Michael. He's normally hungry when he wakes up from his nap, so if he's slightly irritable, that's why."

"I don't blame him," she playfully cooed out as she delicately took the little boy from her potential employer's arms and cradled him gently against her chest. "I like to eat when I wake up, too. So Michael," she continued, switching her attention solely onto the small baby in her arms, "and I think it has to be Michael, no Mikey or Mike for you; we don't want any silly, immature nicknames, do you think you'd like to hang out with me everyday? We could go to the park to feed the ducks, sit on the docks and watch all the big boats sail by, play on the swings at the playground. I could teach you how to paint, you could force me to actually read a book or two, and maybe, together, we could learn how to do something really crazy like….how to cook."

As Jason watched her interact with the child he was quickly starting to think of as his son, he knew that, despite the fact she'd never changed a diaper, fed a baby, or given one a bath, she was going to be Michael's nanny if she agreed to take the job. He liked the way she talked to him as if he was just another adult and not an infant, how she seemed relaxed in the little boy's company, and, seeing the baby react to her, seeing him reach out to grasp her finger, made him realize that Michael felt comfortable with her, too.

"Do you want to feed him," the older man offered, bringing the petite beauty's eyes back to his. "It's really simple, and I'll show you how to do it while we discuss the details of the job."

"Does that mean…."

"It means that, if you still want it, the job's yours. However," the mob boss interjected, making her ecstatic smile fade, "there's something I have to warn you about." Handing her the partially full bottle of milk he had started feeding Michael before he had fallen asleep earlier, he motioned for her to sit down in the chair, showed her how to hold the baby, and then gave her the formula to feed the little guy. Sitting down on the couch across from her, he explained his cryptic statement. "I'm not just some rich guy who's offering you a job, I'm….

"I know who you are," she interjected in the middle of his confession. "You're Jason Morgan, local mob lord. You're a racketeer, drug dealer, murderer, kingpin, arms dealer, common criminal, money launderer, automatic gun toting thug, the Godfather of Port Charles, all according to the local press and the PCPD. You live behind bullet proof glass, you're surrounded by bodyguards 24/7, and you have more than one weapon hidden in your sock drawer, and I get that, if I work for you, I'll be putting myself at risk, but it's not as if I'm auditioning for the role of your enforcer; I'm just applying to be your kid's nanny. Trust me, I'm more at risk for hanging myself with my Skip-It from a bedpost because school became too much for me to handle than I am for taking care of your son. No one is going to target a poor, rather annoying, struggling artist when they come after you. That just doesn't make any sense. So quit this noble act and tell me when I start."

Standing up, Jason removed Michael from her arms and carefully placed him on his shoulder over a rag so he could burp him. Showing her to the door, he announced, "the men will be at your place tomorrow morning at six to help you pack."

"Alright, and, while they're at it, they might as well shuffle the sidewalks, clean the house, and do some laundry, because there's no way I'm getting up before nine."

"You're a nanny now, Elizabeth," he stated with a taunting lilt to his voice. "You better get used to the early hours. Baby's never sleep in."

Cocking her head at him with a quizzical expression on her face, she questioned, "was that an attempt at a joke?"

Frowning, he bellowed, "Johnny!" Within seconds, the bodyguard had the door open and was poking his head into the room.

"Yeah boss?"

"Show Miss Webber downstairs and have someone drive her home."

The young man nodded in compliance with his employer's order, and Jason moved to shut the door, blocking out the amused, childlike giggles of his recently hired nanny. He had a feeling the penthouse was not going to be as quiet as he was accustomed to it….nor as boring. Elizabeth Webber had just waltzed into his life, and it appeared as if she was there for good. For some reason beyond his comprehension or his patience to analyze it, the idea agreed with him and even made him smile….almost.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I know I said that there would be a one shot up before this, but I'm saving that for a rainy day. Enjoy the second chapter. :)_

_Charlynn_

Chapter Two

Jason Morgan was wide awake. Snapped out a deep slumber…well as deep as he allowed himself…, he was roused by peculiar noises drifting up from the kitchen of the penthouse. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was ten after three, and the rest of the house was enchanted with the haunting melancholy of the dead of night. Someone was down there, someone was in his home, someone who, in all likelihood, meant to do him and those living with him harm, had snuck into his private residence, probably through the back access by the stairwell, and he was not going to put up with it.

Grabbing his gun which was, as always, resting on his nightstand, he flicked the safety off as he silently climbed out of the wide expanse of his king sized bed. Too focused upon the task at hand, protecting what was his, namely Michael and his new nanny, Elizabeth, someone Jason had promised himself he wouldn't let be tainted or harmed by his lifestyle, he never heeded the fact that he was dressed in only his boxer briefs, his usual bedtime attire. Trivial concerns such as the amount of clothing he was wearing while he took care of an unexpected problem had no use in his line of work. Although he didn't realize it, if what awaited him required immediate action, there would be less evidence to get rid of if he didn't have clothes on that could be splattered with blood.

His descent down the staircase was slow, deliberate, predatory. Calculating his exact actions as quickly as he could, Jason instinctively elected to employ the element of surprise. He would make his way to the kitchen, observe who was there and attempt to discern their motivation for such a risky venture, and then eliminate the threat they posed as efficiently as possible without alarming Michael or letting Elizabeth know anything was wrong. Then, once everything was taken care of, he'd handle the guards, and saying they wouldn't like the end result of his anger was quite the understatement.

Everything was going according to plan, each step towards his destination making him feel more assured of his actions, but, just as he was about to surreptitiously glide into the room, gun cocked and silencer in place, a sound assaulted his ears he had never expected to hear: music and not just music but a voice, a female voice, sweet and soft and adorably out of key, singing along with the sunny, cheerful song on the radio. He knew that voice, and, despite also knowing that sneaking up on her would only cause the young woman to become alarmed, he was too curious to know what she was up to, to see her for himself before she saw him, to back down. The sight that assailed his eyes was more than he bargained for though.

Elizabeth Webber, in all her very attractive, very appealing, very desirable feminine allure, stood perched in his kitchen in nothing but a pair of adorable underwear, black boyshorts with tiny pink polka dots, and a matching camisole, pink, thin, and delectable sheer across the expanse of her smooth, graceful back. Her hair was piled precariously high on the top of her head, thrown up haphazardly and leaving teasing tendrils to dangle against the alabaster skin of her supple neck. With bare feet, she moved across the heated ceramic tiles of the kitchen like a small, seductive nymph performing a secret, erotic dance only she knew the moves to. However, her back was turned towards him, so he had no idea what she was really up to. Setting his gun aside so she wouldn't see it, he spoke up.

"Couldn't sleep?" His rough, deep, amused voice made her jump, yelp out in surprise, and turn around abruptly to face him, effectively splattering chocolate batter across her shoulder. "Or are you just up for a little late night snack," he motioned towards the spatula that had previously been stirring what appeared to be a rich, thick batter of some kind. She had been there for less than twenty four hours and already she was leaving him feeling dumbfounded and interrupting his life,…and he liked it.

"I was…um…baking brownies," she finally offered in explanation, shrugging her shoulders in a self-conscious manner and turning partially to point to the bowl. "I'm sorry if I did something wrong. I shouldn't have used your kitchen without asking permission."

"It's fine," Jason dismissed her concerns. "Someone should use this room. I sure as hell don't."

"Well, you see, like you suggested, I couldn't sleep, partly because I was craving something sweet, which, by the way, you really need to go grocery shopping, because the only thing in your fridge is beer and formula, and partly because it's weird sleeping in a new bed. Just when I got used to the one at my Gram's, I moved again, and, let me tell you, the bed in my room is huge. It's not just built for two; it's built for twenty. I think I got lost in it when I was trying to find my way out to come downstairs. Anyway, so I decided to make some brownies, seeing as how they're the only thing I can make without risking possible food poisoning. Plus, I thought the guards might like some for helping me move this morning. Those boys look like they could use something wholly unhealthy and sinfully decadent, and nothing fits the bill better than double fudge, chocolate brownies."

While she talked, he just stared at her, waiting to see if she would either run out of things to say first, highly unlikely, or run out of oxygen. A lack of air seemed to be the cause of her pause just as he suspected it would be. After a moment, she went to say more, but, instead, Jason watched her mouth close down in a tight clamp as her eyes bulged and her face turned a bright, healthy, delightful shade of red. She was blushing, and he found himself wondering just what else could cause her to become so self-conscious. It became obvious that their matching states of undress were causing her embarrassment when she blindly searched behind her back for a dishtowel only to discover that it did little to hide her exposed body from his greedy eyes…not that he let her know how hungry they were.

"Just wash up when you're done," he told her, turning around to head back to bed before thinking better of it. On second thought, he kept circling around until he was facing her again and walked up to her lithe, little form and looked down upon her with a pleased smirk on his face. "Both the kitchen and yourself," he taunted, lifting one hand to her shoulder and allowing his index finger to wipe the chocolate off of her smooth, creamy skin. Putting the finger in his mouth, he licked it clean before grinning at her and walking away. "Not bad, Webber," he called out over his shoulder, disappearing from her wide-eyed, stunned, and utterly speechless gaze.

"Jason!," Elizabeth screamed, dashing into the penthouse the next morning at breakneck speeds, ignoring Johnny's request for her to remain in the hallway until he could announce her arrival, and immediately talking before observing her surroundings or, to be more precise, who was in her surroundings. Taking off her coat, gloves, and scarf, she begged, "you've got to help me! Someone's following me – I mean not some puppy dog, desperate, love sick fool who's looking to work up the courage to ask me out, but a suit, a really big suit on a really big body! How the hell have your enemies figured out I'm Michael's nanny already? This is insane!" When she was met with completely silence, she whirled around to confront her employer's disinterest. "Jason, are you…," but her words trailed off when she saw several men sitting around the apartment with her boss, all of them in suits…really big suits just like the man's who had been following her. "I mean…Mr. Morgan…sir? I didn't realize you Hi," she waved tentatively to the amused group in front of her, tucking an errant curl behind her delicate ear. "I'm Elizabeth," she introduced herself before thinking better of it and changing her mind. "I mean I'm Miss Webber….the nanny….I'm no one, no one…who is leaving now."

She had made her way to the door which Johnny was still standing beside looking quite pleased with the situation at hand before she heard him call out her name, and she froze in her tracks, ducking her head in a self-conscious effort to appear less conspicuous. "Elizabeth," Jason spoke up. "No one was following you."

Contradicting her when she was sure of herself made the little, feisty brunette angry enough to turn around and confront her employer. "You weren't there, Jason," she shouted, forgetting to use the more formal terms of reference when speaking to him that she supposed were expected when in such company. "I'm not a child, and I can tell when someone's trying to follow me! At first I thought I was being paranoid, so I tried to lose him, almost did, too." She noticed the tall blonde man's eyes darken slightly as his brow furrowed in frustration but paid it no heed, not analyzing it, and continued with her tirade. "I went into the first floor girl's restroom before class, climbed out the bathroom window, nearly ripping my pants in case you were worried which obviously you're not, and dodged my way into a class I'm not enrolled in, but the damn baboon found me anyway. Twenty minutes later when I ducked out of that classroom in an attempt to make it to my actual lecture, he was standing there, sipping on a coffee, waiting for me, and whistling. He was whistling, Jason, like he didn't have a care in the world!" Taking a deep breath, she continued. "So, I lost him again by going into the cafeteria and sneaking out through the kitchen entrance after telling the cooks I had an obsessive ex-boyfriend following me and high-tailed my way back here, but I'm not sure if he picked up my trail again. He might have followed me back here, too."

"What did he look like?"

"I already told you," she gestured frantically with her arms in an impatient manner. "He looked like a suit, no offense guys," she added on for the businessmen's benefit. When her boss simply kept staring at her, she huffed in irritation, rolling her eyes, and proceeded to give particulars on her alleged stalker. "He was big, broad shouldered, dressed in dark clothes, had blonde hair, and even looked somewhat tan despite the fact that we live in the middle of nowhere during the dead of winter. Come to think of it," she mused, her hand going to rub thoughtfully against her chin, "you've kind of got that all year tan thing going on, too. How do you guys do it? I can't even manage to get a tan in July let alone January!"

"Elizabeth," Jason spoke up snapping her from her verbal monologue, "you weren't being followed. That was your bodyguard, Francis."

Her plump, naturally pink lips fell open in shock as her wide, innocent eyes widened in surprise and slight panic. After a moment, she regained her composure and asked, "why do I need a bodyguard? I can handle myself, as evidenced by me losing your goon not once but twice in a span of an hour."

"You have a guard so that you can go to class and not have to worry about losing someone, so that you can live your life without having to constantly look over shoulder. Francis is there to do that for you," he clarified, "and, apparently, you're right, you're not going to need a bodyguard, you're going to need several if you managed to ditch your man on his first day."

"Well, in that case," she blushed slightly, "no more shaking off the guards. I'll be good."

Crossing his arms across his chest, Jason watched her closely, quirking his eyebrow. "No one said you had to good, Elizabeth."

The color in her cheeks darkened. Evidently, she wasn't the only forgetting they had an audience. After shaking her head to clear it of its opaque webs that were obscuring her capabilities to remain in control, she tilted it in slight defiance. "I have a few stipulations though." He only nodded his head to show her she could carry on. "Number one, let the guards dress in street clothes when I'm at school. I already stick out like a sore thumb because of my own quirky personality traits; there's no need to draw excess attention to me. Secondly, there won't be any of that Miss Webber this, Miss Webber that crap. It's Elizabeth, simple, boring, everyday Elizabeth. And, finally, no guards when I go on dates."

"You have a boyfriend?"

"Wha…what," she stammered, caught off guard by his blunt question. "No, no, I don't have a boyfriend. We're speaking in the hypothetical here."

"The first two requests are fine," Jason agreed with her. "As for this hypothetical boyfriend and these non-existent dates, we'll discuss it if it ever happens."

"When," she corrected him, steeling her jaw and narrowing her eyes, "when it happens." He was baiting her, and there was no way she was going to back down. For several minutes, they stood there staring at each other, totally oblivious to their interested audience. However, some of the men were on strict schedules, so, to interrupt the little power struggle they were witnessing first hand, a man Elizabeth did not know and, frankly, did not want to know cleared his throat to regain his business associates' attention. "Like I said before," she spoke up, directing apologetic glances in the businessmen's directions, "I'll just be leaving." Walking backwards and almost appearing as if she was tiptoeing, Elizabeth made it out of the door before she heard her employer's voice ring out.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" She peaked her head back in. "Your coat," he motioned towards where she had shrugged off her winter garb.

"Right," she agreed, grabbing it quickly from the desk chair and sliding her delicate body into it before slipping on her gloves and scarf. "Now I'm leaving."

"One more thing, Elizabeth," Jason called after her. She stopped in her tracks but said nothing and did not even turn around. "Wait for Francis to join you before you leave."

The men could hear her mumbling under her breath – none of what she said being flattering towards anyone or anything – as she quickly made her way out of the penthouse.

There was something to be said about being an upperclassman; Elizabeth rather enjoyed her leisurely, late mornings on Tuesdays and Thursdays when she got to lounge around home, procrastinate her assignments, and take her time getting ready in the morning. When she didn't have class until 11:00, she could look her best in hopes of picking up that date Jason had pretty much challenged her to find. It was 9:00, Michael was taking his morning nap, and she had an hour and a half to pamper herself. First on the agenda was a nice, long, relaxing bath, complete with bubbles.

Stripping off her pajamas, a particularly favorite pair that were soft to the touch for she had worn them so much and a throwback to her childhood seeing as how they were decorated with many tiny images of her favorite alien, Alf, Elizabeth started the bath water, making sure it was the perfect temperature, and poured in the rose petal scented bubble bath. However, there was a slight problem, nothing that she couldn't handle, but still an inconvenience; she was out of clean towels.

Thinking quickly, she slipped on her pajama top which just barely grazed her upper thighs, just in case, and made her way towards Jason's bedroom. He was anal enough to have a linen closet full of clean towels, and she knew that he was never around this late in the morning. An early riser, he was sometimes out the door even before Michael would wake so as to finish his work early, enabling him to spend some time with the little boy in the evenings. Because he knew her class schedule, she didn't expect him back until right before she would leave with Francis for school, so she made her way to his bedroom, conscience clear; after all, she wasn't snooping….just problem solving.

His room was dark, the drapes were drawn, and she could barely see where she was going. If it wasn't for his bathroom door being open to allow the hallway light to reflect in the mirror, she was sure she would have tripped over something, not that there was anything out of place or littering the floor for Jason was too much of a neat freak to leave his clothes or shoes carelessly thrown aside, but she was a klutz who could find even the most obscure object to fall over and make a fool of herself on. Several tense moments after entering his room, she was home free and about to push her way into the bathroom. Why she felt so edgy, she didn't know. Maybe it was the fact that she was in her boss's private space, perhaps it was because she looked like a shorter, less stealth version of the pink panther, or it could also be because….

"Elizabeth?" His voice made her freeze, mid-step, right in front of the bathroom door. Unfortunately, her face was now reflected in the mirror so he could see her every reaction. "What are you doing in here?"

….or it could also be because her employer was lying in his bed while she was sneaking around his bedroom. Not only was she slightly clumsy, but she also had a penchant for finding herself in trouble, some situations more precarious than others.

"I was just…um…going to borrow some towels. I seem to have run out, but, I swear, I'll wash them, and they won't end up bleached like all of my Gram's."

She noticed him wince as she spoke. _Great,_ she rolled her eyes out of irritation with herself, _he even finds your voice annoying. Way to alienate your boss there, Lizzy._ However, on second glance, Jason didn't seem angry with her, perturbed, agitated, and slightly on edge, yes, but not angry. Perhaps something else was wrong. Wringing her hands in an attempt to puzzle her way through the enigma that was her employer, she looked down at her feet only to remember that they were bare…as were her calves…as were knees….as were just about everything south of her barely covered derrière.

"Oh my god," she called out mortified, reaching for the closest thing available to cover her vulnerable body. Unfortunately, she just so happened to take hold of Jason's bed sheet, snatching it off his body and wrapping it around her legs like a sarong before realizing that, in her haste to cover her own nearly naked body, she had managed to uncover that of her boss'. He was dressed only in his boxer briefs….once again, she reminded herself. How was it possible for one girl to manage to both appear in front of her boss dressed in outfits which left little to the imagination twice in one week but also manage to see him in his underwear on those occasions as well? Only Elizabeth Webber could do that. "I'm…um…holy hippopotamuses," she gasped, dropping her hold on the sheet to shield her eyes from Jason's practically naked form, effectively dropping her wrap again. "Damn it," she cursed, bending over to pick it up, once again, forgetting about the telltale mirror behind her. "Yeah, I'll just air dry," she offered, hastily moving towards his door, but, before she could make it, she saw him wince again. This time she knew something was wrong. "Jason," she asked tentatively. "What is it?"

"Just a migraine," he dismissed.

Glaring at him, she reprimanded, "why didn't you say so? Close your eyes."

"What…why?"

"So that I can cover you back up and leave with at least a shred of my dignity intact," she explained. "It'll just take me a second to go and get you something to take and some water to wash it down, and then I'll leave you alone so you can sleep."

"What about your classes," the mafia boss argued with her.

"It's only the first week; nothing important happens. Now, quit talking," she ordered. "Noise only exacerbates migraines."

Jason recognized her tone of voice. He should, after all, for he used it often enough himself when giving commands. So, listening to the petite sprite of a woman standing in front of him, he closed his eyes, let her drape the sheet over his body, and then laid there in wait for her to return. For some reason, he didn't feel weak letting her take care of him. Instead, it felt like the decisive moment where he realized she would work out as Michael's nanny; it felt as if they had entered into a partnership to not only take care of the little boy across the hall together but to watch each others backs as well. Knowing this, he became aware of the fact that Elizabeth Webber could be his friend, and that thought did more to ease the pain in his migraine than any medication the brunette could offer him.

After a long, interesting, thanks to Elizabeth, and tiring week, Jason Morgan was looking forward to a peaceful, quiet evening at home, simply spending time with Michael and leaving the worries of his job behind. There was cold beer and left over pizza calling his name from the fridge, the comfortable confines of the couch urging him to relax, and a new travel book he had recently picked up that he could start reading. In his opinion, that of a staid bachelor, it was the perfect way to spend the night. Pushing the door to the penthouse open, he realized reality had different ideas for him though.

His recently hired nanny was balled up on the couch, her face red and puffy from tears, and she was surrounded by discarded Kleenexes. As he listened to her hiccups and a new wave of sobs wrack her delicate frame, he knew she had no idea he was there. Not wanting to startle her, he made sure to let the sound of the door gently closing echo throughout the house, alerting her to his presence. However, she didn't say anything, no greeting, no words to explain her despondent mood, no report on how Michael's day had gone. Instead, she shifted on the sofa to face away from him, wiping her eyes, to no avail, in an attempt to hide the stains from her tears, as if turning away was going to make him not notice her misery or not care.

With his hands shoved deeply into his pockets and his eyes avoiding hers, he asked, "are you….are you okay?"

"No!," she wailed unhappily.

"Is there anything I can do to help? Did I do something to upset you…or the guards?"

"Oh, it's nothing like that. You've been great," she told him earnestly, "a little standoffish and disconcerting at times but still nice in your own silent, scowling way." Sniffling, she continued. "This is something I did. I did something wrong, and now….and now," she tried to say through her trembling lips, "you're going to fire me."

The only thing he could think of that would make him fire her was if she had somehow hurt Michael, and, with that thought, panic set in. "Is he alright? What's wrong?"

"Is who alright?" Her wide, baffled eyes belied her confusion.

His reply was terse, to the point, and tinged with concern. "Michael."

"He's….oh, Jason," she smiled up at him reassuringly, realizing what he was fearing. "It's nothing like that; Michael's fine. We spent the afternoon together, playing, and he's upstairs sleeping soundly. See," Elizabeth handed him the baby monitor so he could hear the little boy's soft, slumbering noises.

"So then what's the big deal," he wondered, motioning towards her and her obvious state of despair. "Why would I fire you?"

"I…um," she started, avoiding his gaze once again, "I might have….sort have….kind of broken something."

Rolling his eyes at her dramatics, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket, found a credit card, and handed it to her. "Just buy another one."

"What?! It's not just a glass or a little trinket, Jason," she exploded, gesturing frantically in a distracting manner. "I broke my bed!" His face broke out into an amused grin, surprising her, but her shock was quickly replaced by realization when she comprehended just exactly why he was smirking. "Don't look at me like that," she ordered, glaring at him. Squaring her shoulders and standing up straight, Elizabeth was suddenly not upset and emotional but provoked and annoyed by her employer. "It's not nearly as interesting….or sleazy as you seem to think." Crossing her arms across her chest in a somewhat childish and contrary manner, she mumbled under her breath, "I can't believe I'm admitting this to you," before sighing and looking him straight in the eye. "Since we've already covered the fact that I'm single and not dating anyone currently, we'll leave that embarrassing topic behind and just focus on the present issue. I was….I was jumping on the bed."

"Wait," Jason interrupted her, stifling a laugh. "You were what?"

"I know it's juvenile and definitely not something you would expect from a 21 year old, seemingly adult who is partially responsible for an infant, but I was; I was jumping on the bed. It was just so big and tempting, and I was in a good mood, so I told myself I could try it just once, but then it was too much fun to stop, and, before I knew it, the music was cranked, I was singing along, and I was jumping around like a five year old without a care in the world. And now, now look at what I've done! I've managed to get myself fired after having a job for only a week. I'm definitely living up to my family's opinion of me."

"You're not getting fired," Jason pointed out, his town softening a little, "and you shouldn't care about what your family or anyone else for that matter thinks about you. As for the bed, Elizabeth, at the most, you probably weight 100 pounds soaking wet, and, you're right, that bed is huge. There's no way you could have broken it. Something must have been wrong with it from before. So, like I said," he pushed his credit card into her hands, "go buy a new one. Pick something out that you'll like. It's not a big deal."

"Are you sure," she asked tentatively as if his offer and rational behavior were too good to be true. He simply nodded his head. Breaking into a large smile, she looked at him with a new, indiscernible gleam in her eye. "Thank you! Thank you so much, Jason, for being so…understanding." Moving towards the door, she slipped her winter coat and accessories on while talking. "I won't be gone long, promise. You've had a long day, you're probably tired, so I'll just go and find a new bed quickly and be back here to take care of Michael so you can relax. Do you want me to pick you up something to eat? I'd offer to cook you dinner, but, as you've seen for yourself, all I can make are brownies, and I doubt you'd eat a batch for dinner."

"No, that's fine," he turned down her offer. "I'm just going to eat the leftover pizza in the fridge."

"Actually, I ate that," she confessed, wincing in apology. "So, I'll pick us, I mean you and me, because I have to eat as well, but separately, up some dinner." Changing topics rapidly, she pulled open the door but stopped to look at him. "You know, we made it through our first week. Pretty impressive, huh?" Smiling at him one last time, she waved goodbye and floated out of the door, her voice easily carrying back to him as she joked around and laughed with Johnny while waiting for Francis. That wasn't the extraordinary part though; Elizabeth was always having fun, enjoying life, making friends. What was extraordinary was that, as soon as she was gone, Jason Morgan sat down on the couch, closed his eyes, and laughed. Things were already changing in the atmosphere of the penthouse, and she'd only been there a week. Pretty impressive was right.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

It had been a good day. Business was profitable, _business_ was flowing smoothly, the transition between Sonny's command and his almost complete, and he was home early to spend time with Michael. The penthouse was quiet as he entered, but Johnny had told him that nothing out of the ordinary had happened that day, that both Michael and Elizabeth were upstairs, and that there was even take-out waiting in the kitchen for him whenever he wanted to have something to eat. That seemed to be the pattern of his days now that the petite wisp of a brunette had come under his employ. He worked all day, came home at night to find everything calm, controlled, and organized, and she was always, somehow, finding ways to take care of him. Whether it was by making sure he ate, taking care of him a few weeks before when he had a migraine, or just by making him laugh, Elizabeth Webber was firmly entrenched in their lives in less than a month. It felt as if she had always been there, belonged there, was needed there, and, luckily, the arrangement seemed to work well for her, too.

Taking the stairs two at a time, it took Jason just a few seconds to arrive on the second floor, making his way straight towards Michael's nursery. That was where he always found them. If Michael was awake, she would play with him there; if he was sleeping, she would curl up on the chair in the corner of the room and work on her schoolwork. She claimed to like the room, telling him that it was beautiful in the afternoons when the setting sun would crash through the wide, picture window. Although he wasn't quite sure why the light mattered so much to her, he took it as just another of Elizabeth's whims, after all, she seemed to have many of them, and added it to the list of things that made her uniquely her.

However, this evening when he pushed open the door to the nursery, the sight that awaited him made his footing falter and brought a look of surprise and uncertainty to his eyes, something which was quite a feat in itself, for Jason Morgan prided himself on always being prepared for anything.

Everything from the room was gone. Michael's crib, the chair Elizabeth always sat in, the ottoman that rested before it for her feet, both dressers, the changing table, even the small side table that rested beside the chair and the lamp that sat on top of it. Besides furniture, every little piece that made up the room was gone as well: Michael's clothes, the supplies they used to change his diaper, bathe him, feed him, the books he read to him every night, the little boy's toys, even his night light. The room was completely stripped of every item that had previously occupied it, leaving it bare. Plastic had been spread across the floor, clear plastic that would protect the beige carpeting from being stained. Why it was there, Jason didn't know, but he knew it had something to do with the woman standing in the center of the room.

She appeared oblivious to his gaze, not even realizing he was standing behind her, watching her and her actions intently. She was barefoot, dressed in a pair of ripped, tattered, stained jeans and an old button up top, sleeves rolled up and excess material tied high up on her stomach, revealing a generous proportion of the creamy, alabaster skin of her toned abdomen. Even her hair amused him, twin French braids that gave her a sense of sheer innocence. So, dressed seemingly pure and ingenuous but still managing to completely capture his attention, she stood there in the center of the room, biting her lush, plump, bottom lip, as she focused on taking notes or writing something down on a pad of paper. It was only when she tilted her head at a different angle, exposing a long expanse of her bare neck that he noticed she was listening to music from a pair of headphones. That was why she hadn't heard him approach, why she still didn't know he was there.

However, Jason knew her well enough to know that the music would only be playing quietly so that, if Michael would suddenly wake, cry out, and need her, she would be able to hear him from the portable baby monitor she carried with her wherever she went in the penthouse. So, taking a further step into the room, he spoke up.

"What happened here?"

He never meant to startle her, but, as soon as the three words left his mouth, Jason knew that was the result his simple question had induced. The legal pad of paper she had been holding, one that looked suspiciously like those he kept in his desk, fell to the floor along with the pencil she had been using, her lithe, little body became tense and on guard, and she literally jumped forward out of shock.

"Don't come a step closer," Elizabeth ordered, her voice louder than normal because of the music still playing in her ear. "I'm warning you; I carry a stun gun."

That was definitely not something he had been prepared to hear come out of the little pixie's mouth. "You what?"

"Yeah, that's right," she continued, still too keyed up to place his voice or turn around to face her would-be-attacker. "In fact, I'm holding it in my hand right now, so, if I were you, I'd just turn right back around and leave, buddy."

"Elizabeth, there's no way you could carry a stun gun in the pocket of _those_ jeans." Taking an appreciative glance at _those_ jeans, he smiled at the way they emphasized her trim, curvaceous waist, how well they formed to her round, firm derrière, how lean and taunt they made her supple thighs seem. Despite his best efforts, he found himself appreciating most of the things she wore. Shaking off his rather inappropriate and dangerous thoughts, he spoke up again. "Would you just turn around and look at me. It's Jason."

She hesitantly did as he asked, and, as soon as she saw for herself that it really was her boss, she took off her headphones, tossing them aside, and smiled widely up at the much taller man. "Oh, hey Jason, sorry about that. You startled me. I kind of got lost in what I was working on."

"Which is what exactly? Where are all of Michael's things? Hell, where's Michael?"

"Oh, I'll explain that in a minute, but can I ask you something first?" He shrugged his shoulders to show that he didn't mind. "How did I sound? Was it believable?"

"What?"

"My threats," she explained. "Did you believe me that I was carrying a stun gun? It's been something I've been practicing lately….my angry, threatening voice."

Hiding his amusement, he slowly responded, trying to pacify her. "Like I said, there's no way you could have been packing a stun gun with how you're dressed."

"But, what if I had a big coat on with pockets or if I was carrying a purse," she wouldn't let the topic go. "Would you have believed me then?"

Instead of answering her question, Jason asked one of his own. "Why, do you have a stun gun?"

"No."

"Then what does it matter?"

"It's a precaution," Elizabeth explained. "What if someone tries to grab my purse or approaches me in a dark alley."

"First of all," he told her seriously, "you're not supposed to walk down dark alleys, and, secondly, if someone is stupid enough to approach you, Francis will take care of them. You're not supposed to try and pull some ridiculous stunt to protect yourself. That's why you have a guard, to keep you safe."

Smirking devilishly, she posed, "but what if Francis isn't with me? What if I'm out somewhere and something happens and there's no guard around?"

"That's never going to happen." His voice was resolute, determined, and final, but, unfortunately, he knew she was up to something as soon as he looked into her mischievous eyes. Elizabeth never did or asked a question unless there was a reason behind it, even if the reason made little sense to him. Hoping he could deter her though, he changed the topic. "Now, tell me what's going on? Why is this room empty?"

"Well, you see," she beamed up at him, motioning towards the bare room, "I've decided the room needs a little character."

Confused, Jason asked, "what?"

"It's boring," she cried out in an exasperated manner. "It has no personality, nothing interesting to look at, nothing to stimulate Michael's growing mind, so I'm going to change that."

"The room's fine," he argued. "Michael has everything he needs."

"Come on, Jason," she coaxed him, widening her eyes and pouting slightly. Apparently, she knew exactly how to get her way, because he already felt himself caving. "I'm not going to touch your room, although it could seriously handle a personal touch or two; I'm just going to paint a tiny, little mural on the nursery's walls."

"How little?"

"It'll be barely perceptible."

"Elizabeth," he questioned her, knowing she was hedging the truth.

"Maybe a wall or two," she offered, still hesitant.

"Just a wall or two?"

"Or three….or four," she smiled up at him, the hopefulness radiating from her gorgeous, deep sapphire eyes. When he went to complain, she started talking rapidly, cutting him off. "It won't be something tacky or bright. I'm using muted, earth tones, and I really think it'll be something you like. Artists are supposed to observe their clients, and, while you're not my client, obviously, because I'm doing this voluntarily and already planned it without asking you, I still want to make sure you like the end results. So, I've paid attention to things you like, things that seem to interest you, and I've made my design to reflect both you and Michael."

"Fine," he conceded, "what is it?"

"I can't tell you," she said rapidly, avoiding his eyes. "It's a surprise."

Groaning in defeat, Jason asked, "and how long is this going to take?"

"A week….or two," Elizabeth answered. "A month, tops."

"And where's Michael and all of his things going to go while you're painting?"

"Oh, I already moved him into my room," she responded breezily. "I called Max and Johnny up this afternoon, and, while I handled his clothes and the light weight things, they moved all the furniture into my room for me. It's a little crowded, but it'll do for a few weeks."

"So, now my men take orders from you?"

"No," she dismissed, laughing, "of course not. They simply did me a favor, and, in exchange, I'm going to help them out."

Unable to help himself, though he knew he probably didn't want to know the answer, Jason asked, "and how exactly are you going to do that, help them out?"

"I'm taking Max shopping next week to help him pick out a birthday gift for his Mom, and I promised Johnny that if I meet any hot, single, interesting women at school, I'd introduce them."

Rubbing his face tiredly, Jason mumbled, "sorry I asked," before moving towards the doorway. "So, Michael's in your room?"

"Yep, sound asleep," Elizabeth responded. Before he could disappear into the hallway though, her voice raising in volume stopped him. "There's just one more thing…"

"What?"

"Would it be possible for me to switch my day off next week, have Saturday off instead of Sunday?"

"Sure," he agreed easily, "that's no problem."

"Thanks," she smiled up at him happily, clapping her hands together. "It's just, it's Valentine's Day, there's this dance, and I," she paused for effect, waltzing past him out of the doorway, "have a date."

"You have a what," Jason asked, following closely behind her, suddenly regretting agreeing to her favor without asking more questions first.

"A date," Elizabeth repeated, smirking at his reaction. "Hence the reason for practicing my stun gun threat, because, as we agreed, there's no guard when I'm out on a date."

"I never agreed to that," he argued with her. As they walked down the stairs, Jason right at her heals, she merely ignored him while he continued to protest. "We said we would discuss this when the situation came up, and I've thought about it. You'll have two guards."

"Nope."

Her retort was short, concise, impertinent, and it drove him crazy.

"Fine, one guard, but he carries two guns instead of just one." She simply laughed at him – _laughed_. "One guard, one gun, but camera surveillance at the dance?" At that suggestion, she snorted. "One guard, one gun, no camera surveillance, but my men drive you to and from the party. You do not get in your date's car." Turning around, she stuck her tongue out at his third idea of a compromise. Groaning, he tried again, "one guard, one gun, you eat at home and don't go out to eat with this clown, and you take a taxi."

"Listen, Jason," Elizabeth stopped walking towards the kitchen and turned around to stalk her way towards him, pointing a slim, delicate finger against his chest, the motion carrying with it the potency of a gun barrel, "I'm going on this date, so you're just going to have to deal with it. I get that you're ridiculously protective of those who work for you, but this is no big deal. He's just some guy I met in class, and I asked him out. It's not some big conspiracy to hurt your nanny."

"If he was the type of man you deserve, he would have asked you out," he told her forcefully. "I can already tell this guy's no good."

Rolling her eyes at her boss, Elizabeth dismissed his actions as those of a protective big brother. After all, she had an older brother, and, while she knew he could care less about what she did or who she dated, she had always hoped he would care enough about her to worry the way Jason did. "I'll agree to a guard," she relented, "but there will be no gun, no surveillance equipment, no orders as to what I do on the date. We're meeting at the dance, and, if we get along, perhaps we'll do something else together afterwards. The guard will hide in the background, blend in with the rest of the college students, and he'll only intervene if I expressly ask for him to. Got it?"

"Fine," he agreed, sighing in defeat, "but I have a few stipulations, too." Ticking the rules off on his long fingers, Jason demanded, "you'll carry mace, I get to do a background check on this so-called date of yours, and we program a few emergency numbers into your cell phone just in case."

Smiling widely, she held out her delicate palm for him to shake. When he grasped her tiny hand in his much larger, masculine one, she teased, "it was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Morgan. Now, should we seal the deal by sharing a meal?"

The girl was cheeky, playful, always lacing her words with innuendo and allusions to _business _related topics she knew were taboo, and was definitely going to be the death of him. For some reason though, dying had never looked so appealing before for Jason.

Sitting at his desk in the penthouse, the lights dimmed except for the one illuminating the surface of his work space, Jason Morgan sat pretending to reconcile accounts, trying to read over reports, and doing a terrible job of both. He told himself it was too quiet to work, but, seeing as how the quiet had always been something he sought out in the past before she had entered his life, the thought that he needed her intrusive noises around him to work was a frightening one. In less than a month he had become accustomed to her constant rambling, her whispered conversations with Michael, the endless stream of music she insisted upon playing while alone in her room or baking her brownies for the guards, the fine sounds of her colored pencils moving across a sketch pad when she worked at night from the couch, the two of them sitting in friendly silence. It was the first night since she had moved in a month before that she wasn't there with them at night, and he didn't like it.

Normally on her days off, she would return before dinner, claiming it was too cold to stay out after the sun set or that she had missed Michael. Whether she was spending her afternoon off with her Grandmother, shopping, or working on a paper at the library, she was always home in time to tuck her little charge in at night, to tell him about her day, to ask him about his. It was just one part of the routine they had fallen into so easily, and, sitting alone in the living room, watching the clock and waiting for her to come home, Jason realized he missed it. He had a feeling…or perhaps a hope that she was missing it, too.

She had been ready early, dressed, primped, and fidgeting nervously at six o'clock when she wasn't supposed to meet her date at the dance until seven. He had been upstairs with Michael in the nursery when he heard her pacing the length of the penthouse below, so, curious and knowing she'd want to see the infant boy before she left, he picked up the little baby and made his way down the stairs. Upon first sight of her, he had secretly been pleased to see that her navy blue dress was modest. The neck, though a slight v, did not reveal much skin, keeping her upper body hidden from sight, and the dress even had sleeves, though sheer, that reached her elbows, but, as she rounded the corner of the couch, showing him the rest of her outfit from the waist down, his satisfaction disappeared. From the waist up, the dress was modest and innocent, but, from the waist down, it was flirty, slightly naughty, and way to short in Jason's opinion. Paired with her shapely legs and a set of wicked stilettos, he felt an undeniable urge to put Michael down in his seat, pick her up and sling her over her shoulder, and carry her upstairs to her room where he could lock her away and keep her safe. However, instead, he did nothing except compliment her, telling her in his own rather awkward way that she looked nice, surprising both of them.

After thanking him, Elizabeth had taken Michael from his arms, ignoring his warnings that he had just fed the little boy so she should be careful with her dress, and held him closely, telling him about her evening, apologizing for not being there to tuck him in, and promising they would do something special together the next day. A dozen kisses later, all of which left light traces of lipstick on the infant that Jason had to wash off once she left, the brunette beauty had walked slowly backwards out of the penthouse, waving at her young charge the whole way. If he didn't know better, he would have said there were traces of tears lining her magnificent eyes, but he had shoved that idea aside, dismissing it as wishful thinking.

So, three hours later, there he sat, still alone, and constantly letting his eyes stray towards the door as he waited for her to get home. _This is ridiculous_, Jason snarled under his breath. _How long does a date last? She should be home already._ He didn't want to think about what could be keeping her away for what he considered too long of a time. The thought that she was actually enjoying herself with this date, that it could go well and lead to another date, and another, and perhaps a steady boyfriend was just something out of the question. In his opinion, the sooner Elizabeth was back from her date, the sooner things could return to normal around the penthouse, the sooner the guards could relax again, and the sooner he could take a deep breath. Despite knowing the fact that Elizabeth was on a date disturbed him, Jason refused to analyze why. He dismissed it as worry for his nanny, concern for a young girl with an untrustworthy guy, a dislike for the fact that his routine had been interrupted; he wouldn't acknowledge the idea that perhaps he was jealous, that maybe the idea of any guy….any person spending time alone with Elizabeth, his Elizabeth, bothered him. Instead, he kept waiting.

Time moved on, the tick of the clock taunting him as seconds, minutes, hours passed by, his work was pushed aside as he gave up on getting anything productive accomplished, and still Elizabeth did not return home and there was no call from her guard. Just as he was about to stand up and move across the room to glance out the balcony doors to check for her car, the phone rang, the caller id immediately alerting him to the fact that it was Max calling, Elizabeth's guard for the night. Despite Francis being assigned as her usual guard, they had decided a younger man would work better for the evening, because he would be better able to fit in and blend into the crowd at the dance. While Johnny was the closest to the college age, he was also a big flirt, and Jason did not want to risk him being distracted by a pretty girl or an easy piece of ass. So, with that in mind, Max had been assigned to guard the petite woman for the night, to stand back, observe quietly, but not to interfere unless she asked for his help. A phone call could only mean one thing: trouble.

"What," Jason barked as soon as he answered the phone, not giving his employee a chance to say anything. "What happened?"

"Nothing….yet," Max responded, his voice unsure and slightly nervous. "She hasn't called me over or even looked in my direction, but I can sense that something's up."

"How so?"

"Well, you know Elizabeth boss," the bodyguard pointed out, "she's always so happy, smiling and laughing all the time, even with you, but she looks sad, her shoulders and head are turned down as if she's trying to protect herself, and it looks as if she's about to cry. I know you said to not do anything unless she asks for my help, but…."

"I'll be right there," Jason ordered, not giving Max a chance to finish his thought. "Do not let her out of her sight, and, if that jerk does anything, anything at all, get Elizabeth out of there immediately." Slamming the phone down, Jason stood and marched his way towards the entrance. "Johnny," he bellowed for the young guard who was on door duty. Whipping the door open, he ordered, "come inside. You're in charge of Michael. If he wakes up, there's a bottle in the fridge. Feed him, change his diaper, and read to him until he falls asleep again. I'll be back soon."

"Where are you going; what's going on," the curious Irishman asked, his eyes watching his boss closely. "Is it Elizabeth?"

"She's upset," Jason answered, already walking out the door.

"I'm sure she can take care of her…," but his words fell on deaf ears as the mob boss was already to the elevator and punching keys as if they were the cause of the nanny's distress. Shutting the door to the penthouse, Johnny mused to himself, "man, that little firecracker makes it easy to tease Jason. Dude's got it bad." Laughing to himself, he made his way to the kitchen. "I wonder what kind of ice cream she has in the freezer. I might as well enjoy babysitting while I can, because, after tonight, there will be no more dates for Elizabeth if Jason had anything to say about it."

Elizabeth knew she was overreacting, that a bad date wasn't the end of the world, but, even with telling herself that, she was still upset. It wasn't as if she thought her date, Paul, was going to be the love of her life or even someone who could turn into a serious boyfriend, but he had seemed nice enough, and she had been hoping to make a friend. Sure, she had her Gram, the guards, and even Jason to talk to, but she wanted a friend, someone she could confide in, go to parties with, help each other. There was no attraction between them, after all, he wasn't her type – tall, broad shouldered, muscular, blonde haired, blue eyes, chiseled jaw line, quiet, slightly bossy, overly protective, - but, as soon as Jason had told her she looked nice that evening while rubbing his face in a timid nature, she knew Paul could be no more than her friend. Although Elizabeth knew there was no way her employer could return the feelings she was starting to feel towards him, she wasn't ready to give up on her crush yet and settle for someone else. Unfortunately, Paul seemed to be just as interested in Jason…but for very different reasons.

At first she had dismissed his questions as his way of trying to get to know her better, but when they changed in nature from being about her job to her charge and her boss, she knew her date was just another wide-eyed Port Charles resident who was curious about the _business _life of Jason Morgan and his associates. She had avoided his inquiries, hedging her answers or attempting to change the subject, but Paul was relentless. Eventually, he became annoyed with her, his tone going from friendly to irritated, and, when she tried to walk away, he blocked her path and became belligerent. However, she refused to back down, refused to call over Max, refused to dial any of those preset emergency numbers Jason had programmed onto her cell phone, because, by bringing the guards or even Jason himself into the situation, it would just be giving the jerk standing beside her the very thing he wanted most.

"You know," her date changed the topic, "I've recently started to realize that college isn't for me.

_Finally,_ Elizabeth sighed thankfully. This was something safe, something that had nothing to do with Jason or his _business_, something she could discuss with the man standing beside her and hopefully get him to agree to end their evening. "College isn't right for a lot of people," she responded kindly. "It took me a semester away from school to realize it is something I want. What do you have in mind for a career?"

"Actually," Paul smiled at her. She grimaced, didn't mean to but couldn't help it, for his grin appeared to be shifty. "That's why I agreed to come to this stupid dance with you," he explained. "I thought you might be able to help me."

"I didn't know you were interested in art. There are a lot of great classes here if you are, and they might be able to…."

"No, that's not it," he cut her off, laughing at the very idea that she presented. "I thought that maybe you could put in a good word for me with Mr. Morgan. In his world, there's power, respect, the chance to make your fortune and make it quickly. I want that; I want the excitement."

She was frustrated, tired, and her pride had taken a beating that evening, so, even though she knew it was probably a good idea to not antagonize her date, Elizabeth couldn't help it. "I've never heard anyone speak so highly of the coffee industry." Before Paul could reply, she pressed, "however, despite your enthusiasm for the job, I think I heard the boys mention that the only job opening there is right now is one for a bean counter, and you're just not qualified enough for that position. Maybe next time." She went to whirl around, to walk away and forget that the evening had ever occurred, to find Max and say that she was ready to go home, but the rough hand around her upper arm, pulling her back, stopped her.

"Listen here, you little slut," Paul threatened her, "that wasn't a request; that was an order."

"Excuse me?" Baited, she was fighting back, ignoring her better instincts to call for Max or to make an emergency call to someone else. "What did you just call me?"

"Oh, don't play all sanctimonious with me, sweetheart. I know exactly who….or, to be more exact, what you are. You're Morgan's little whore. Sure, you tell the world that you're his son's nanny, but we both know the truth, that you have absolutely no experience in childcare, that you're there to keep his bed warm until he gets bored with you, that you're the final bargaining chip he uses to make sure all of his deals go through, one night with you for full cooperation from his _business_ associates. All I'm asking is that you put in a good word for me after fucking Morgan's brains out or tease him until he relents and agrees to give me a job, I really don't care how you do it. Just get me into his organization."

"I wouldn't help you if you threatened me with my life," she spit out, attempting to shove him away from her body. "Now, let me go!"

"I don't think you understand this," Paul sneered, tightening his grip upon her arm and letting his free hand curl cruelly against the back of her neck. "Obviously, Morgan likes his whores stupid, but, that's okay, that'll work even better for me." Taking a quick glance around the crowded dance floor to make sure no one was paying attention to them, he pushed her into a dark corner, ignoring her whimpers of protest, and not noticing the two men making their way as quickly as they could through the congested party. "On second thought," Elizabeth's date suggested with a dark, menacing spark in his eye, his lower body moving to rock against hers, "maybe I'll take a cue from your boss and use you for sex, too. Maybe one night with a mob slut will be even more enjoyable than a promising career in Mr. Morgan's organization."

"Get off me," she cried desperately, struggling against the overpowering man, but it was no help. He was simply too big, too strong for her to fight off.

"I bet you're not this wild or feisty with Morgan," he grunted out, lowering his head to cover her mouth to stop her from yelling. She closed her eyes, frantically trying to will herself enough strength to push her attacker away, but, before anything else could happen, everything changed.

She was safe, protected, and nestled carefully into Jason's arms, her head tucked delicately under his chin. Her eyes were still clasped tightly closed as she tried to keep her tears at bay, but, even without looking, she knew who was holding her. She could smell his signature scent, a mixture of his clean soap, coffee, and laundry detergent. Jason didn't wear cologne, but, to her, he always smelled wonderful; he smelled of security, kindness, home.

"You're okay now," he whispered to her, his warm breath washing a sense of peace over her still shaking body. Clinging even tighter to him, Elizabeth let his unique combination of power and tenderness ease her fears. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you," Jason promised. Raising his voice, he ordered Max to take care of her date before carrying her away from the gawking crowd. She could hear Paul begging for mercy behind her and Max laughing as he told the punk to shut up, that he wasn't going to kill him, but, at that point, Elizabeth didn't care what happened to her date or what Max did to him; all that mattered was that she was safe….in Jason's arms.

"We're going to take my bike home," he told her as they walked across the parking lot. "I know it's cold, but it's quicker than waiting for the car or trying to wait in traffic." Carefully, he put her down, keeping an arm around her waist to steady her. "Here," he offered, slipping his leather jacket on her petite frame before climbing onto his bike. After helping her on, insisting she wear the helmet, and making sure she was adjusted with her arms around him, he went to turn it on, but her soft voice stopped him cold.

"No more dates," Elizabeth whispered, her face resting against his shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around his chest, her legs pressed intimately next to his.

"No more dates," Jason agreed, taking a deep breath of relief. Starting the motorcycle, they sped away from the college campus to go home….together.

Although she had been upset, it had taken a while before Elizabeth was calm enough to fall asleep. As soon as they got back to the penthouse, he had helped her up the stairs, despite her protests that she was fine, and stood right outside her doorway while she changed into a pair of loose fitting, comfortable pajamas. Once she was ready for bed, they went back downstairs, Jason still in his jeans and t-shirt, and had settled onto the couch to watch a movie, her choice. She had picked When Harry Met Sally, and, although he had been skeptical about the selection at first, Jason had to admit that even he had found a few parts amusing, especially when the antics of the characters made Elizabeth forget the night she had been through and caused her to giggle. Her laughter was the very thing he needed to hear after witnessing, for himself, her tears, something he never wanted to see again. He had sent one of the men out for food, and the two of them had sat together, eating a late dinner and watching the movie.

Neither of them had noticed it, but, by the time he realized she was sound asleep, they were sitting very closely on the couch, her small, vulnerable body curled into a ball with her head resting against his broad and dependable chest, her delicate shell of an ear pressed intimately against his heart as the steady beat of his life's blood pumping through his body served as the lullaby she needed to finally fall asleep.

Jason didn't know how long he had sat there, merely watching her peaceful slumber, risking movement every few minutes to glide his hand against her rich, chocolate brown hair in an effort to keep her errant curls from tickling her face, but it was really late, even for him, when he finally decided to move her to her bedroom, effortlessly picking her up and cradling her body protectively against his chest. With one arm underneath her knees and the other underneath her neck and around her shoulders, he had carried Elizabeth upstairs and into her room before tucking her into bed, but, even when she was safely under her covers, he still didn't leave her alone. Instead, he had taken a seat upon the chair she had brought in from Michael's room, watching her long into the night. He saw her toss and turn in the large bed while trying to find a comfortable sleeping position, finally settling on the fetal position with a pillow clutched tightly to her chest, he listened to her quiet mumbles while she slept, incoherent jabbering that held no meaning but revealed that she was dreaming, and, as his eyes were finally drifting closed early the next morning as the sun was making its way into the sky, he finally realized why he was there, sitting in her room instead of asleep in his own bed. Elizabeth Webber, somehow, had wormed herself into his heart, and he was already starting to care about her…too much so, in fact.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

It had been a few weeks since Valentine's Day, since Jason had come riding to her rescue on his utterly reliable, purely masculine, terribly attractive Harley Davidson, since she had woken up the next morning to find him sleeping peacefully in the chair across from her bed, his face turned towards her as if he had been keeping vigil the night before, but, despite her concerns and perhaps even hope, nothing had changed between them. Every morning, he awoke before she did, before Michael did, and went to work, returning that evening when they would eat dinner together and spend time with Michael. He would help her tuck the little boy in when it was his bedtime and then disappear into his office to continue working while she retired to the nursery to paint. When they went to sleep, they went to bed separately, and neither mentioned the things they had shared during that one, fateful night. The trust, the compassion, the tenderness, the need to shelter and protect, the connection were never even hinted at. It was as if what they had shared had never happened, and, as more time went on with nothing said, the more the evening bothered her, haunted her, made her question things she was unprepared for.

However, Elizabeth Webber was not the type of woman to turn away from seemingly unanswerable questions; she embraced them, conquered them, and showed them who was boss. So, when she ordered enough lunch for two and chilled a couple bottles of beer one afternoon, it was on purpose. Living with Jason for two months had shown her that he wasn't going to talk to her, so she'd have to go to the next best source: the man whom he trusted not only with his own life but that of his son, the man whom he worked side by side with everyday, the man whom he considered a friend. Johnny O'Brien was never going to see her coming.

"Hey Lurch," she called out sweetly, her mischievousness lending her dark blue eyes a sparkling sheen of sinful delight. "Whatcha doin'?"

"I'm darning socks, Elizabeth," he returned without batting a lash. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're trying to ignore how hungry you are, that you're counting the various specks in the marble floor to keep from falling over from boredom, that you're making a mental list in your head with various ways to someday torture Jason as payback for giving you door duty." He went to protest, but she, instead of letting him talk, let out a deep sigh and started talking before he ever had a chance. "Now, I can't really do anything about the last one, because I have about zero influence over our fair but slightly moody employer."

Snorting, Johnny muttered under his breath, "oh, honey, you have more than you think."

However, Elizabeth was too focused upon the task at hand to hear his words or the meaning they held. "But, I can help with your first two problems."

"Do you have something you need me to do for you, some errand you need me to run?"

"What," she asked, dismissing his question with a simple wave of her hand before he could respond, "of course not. I just thought we could have lunch together. Michael's so content in his swing, he's blowing bubbles, I have nothing to work on for school, and I just so happen to have two helpings of chicken and dumplings from that deli you like so much a couple of blocks away and no one to share it with. Now, I could throw the extras away or pack it up and leave it in the fridge to grow mold so Jason has to throw it away, or you could do me a favor and …."

"Eat with you," the guard finished for her, smirking at her rather complicated and unconventional way of asking someone to have lunch with her. "I'll tell you what," he offered, "if you can throw in dessert, too, you just might have yourself a date."

"How do oatmeal raison cookies sound?" When he went to protest, she held up a hand to stop him. "And, no," Elizabeth reassured, "I did not make them this time." As he followed her into the penthouse, quietly closing the door behind him, she continued to talk. "I still don't know what I did wrong either. I followed the directions explicitly, but the damn things still ended up tasting like a mix between a slightly mildewed gym sock and canned dog food."

"I don't even want to know how you know that, Webber."

"Simple," the brunette ignored the slightly disgusted grimace on her friend's face at the thought of her culinary simile, "I was the baby with two very vindictive, intelligent siblings who had both a mean streak and a very sick sense of revenge."

Laughing at her, Johnny asked, "and I'm supposed to believe that you were completely innocent in those situations, that you didn't do anything to deserve their payback?"

"Lurch," Elizabeth corrected him, "if you should know one thing about me by now, you should know that I'm no innocent, far from it, in fact." Motioning towards his chair which already had a steaming plate full of food in front of it, she ordered, "sit, eat, and, if you stop teasing me, I'll go and get us something to drink. Any requests?"

As she disappeared into the hallway, the doorman answered, "whatever you're having will be fine," and then tucked into his food like a soldier who hadn't seen rations for over a week. His plate was already half empty and he was thinking about refills when Elizabeth slipped back into the room, placing a cold bottle of beer in front of while sipping on her own glass of chocolate milk, the sweet, childish drink leaving the faint trace of a mustache on her upper lip. Confused, he motioned towards his drink. "What the hell's that?"

"It's a beer, O'Brien," the snarky brunette replied with a wink. "Funny, I didn't take you for a teetotaler, especially, you know, with the _business_ and all. Didn't you guys get your start peddling hooch and moonshine during the 20's?"

"I'm not that old," Johnny returned, handling the loaded question with a benign flippancy that rather amused the woman sitting across from him. "And you know exactly why I asked. That's Jason's beer, isn't it?"

"So what if it is. He's a big boy. I'm sure someone taught him how to share already. Besides," she pointed out, "he offered me some the other night, and I'm just his barely legal nanny. Surely, he wouldn't begrudge his co-worker, one of his best friends, an ice cold, frothy, thirst quenching beer during his lunch break."

"Are we talking about the same Jason Morgan, because the one I know really doesn't like to share?"

Dismissing him, Elizabeth exclaimed, "oh, please, come on…."

"No, I'm serious," the bodyguard interrupted her. "He's never once offered me a beer before. When he has a pizza delivered, which is rare but still, he never offers me a slice, doesn't matter how long I've been standing out in that damned hallway without so much as a chance to take a leak let alone grab something to eat. I once asked him if I could borrow his motorcycle, take it out to clear my head, and he shot me down so quickly you would have thought I'd asked him for a kidney."

"A man's ride is personal, private," the petite pixie retorted, her eyes blazing with ulterior motive, "almost as exclusive as his woman, his girlfriend, his lover."

That got Johnny's attention. Smirking at her, he taunted, "he let you ride with him."

"Exactly, with him," Elizabeth returned. "I wasn't driving; I was merely holding on to him while he controlled the bike, and I'm sure that if your name was Joanne instead of Johnny, if you had makeup on your face instead of a five o'clock shadow, and looked like a football cheerleader instead of a football player, he'd let you ride with him, too." The tall Irishman snorted. "I mean, I'm sure I'm not the only one he's ever let ride his motorcycle with him. Michael's Mom, for instance, she probably took rides with him all the time." There it was, the bait she was hoping he would take so she could catch herself a prize piece of information about her elusive and mystifying employer, and, when his previous snort turned to a sound close to what she would describe as a chuckle, she knew the guard was intrigued and perhaps even ready to talk.

"Yeah, not so much," he revealed, his eyes crinkling in amusement at the idea. "Let's just say that she preferred the finer things in life. Her motto was 'why ride on a motorcycle when there's a stretch limo waiting in the wings to serve as a chauffer?'."

"And the others," she pressed, curious. While her friend was talking, she wanted to keep him that way.

"What others?"

"Jason's other girlfriends."

Johnny paused for a moment. "Well, there was really only one, and, while she would ride with him, I don't think she particularly enjoyed it."

"Wait a second," Elizabeth interrupted his memories. "Jason's only had one girlfriend, but she wasn't Michael's Mom? I don't get it."

"Trust me," the bodyguard assured her, "none of us did either. I'm still not exactly sure…."

"Not sure of what," Jason's voice filled the penthouse, breaking through Johnny's comment, and disrupting their meal. As he watched the doorman turn around, his eyes narrowed. "And what are you doing in here? You're supposed to be watching the door."

"He's having lunch with me," the fiery brunette spoke up, answering her employer's question before her friend had a chance. "You can't expect him not to eat, Jason."

"I can, and I do."

"Right," the Irishman agreed, standing up, his beer bottle still in his hands. "I was just going to….," he motioned towards the door, started walking that way, and then froze when Jason's voice rang through the penthouse again.

"What is that in your hand?"

"It's a beer, Morgan, one beer" Elizabeth taunted. "Geez, what did you do, forget to put your contacts in this morning?"

"It's my beer," the blonde haired man returned with a smug grin.

Playing his game, she retorted, "I bought it."

"So, does that give you the right to give it to my guards?"

"Why not," Elizabeth asked. "You let me drink it."

"You don't carry a loaded semi-automatic around either," Jason pointed out.

"Ugh," the brunette groaned out, frustrated, "are you always this stubborn? Johnny and I were having a friendly lunch. So what if I gave him a beer? He's not drunk! Hell, I bet he didn't even drink it all." Tearing her eyes away from her boss', she looked around the room for the bodyguard, but he wasn't there, and the door to the penthouse was already shut. "Damn," she muttered under her breath. Whirling back around to look at Jason, she queried, "what are you doing here anyway?"

"I live here, Webber," he told her bluntly. "Besides, since when do you keep tabs on me?"

"I wasn't…that's not what…."

"And, for that matter," he interrupted, "what exactly were the two of you discussing when I walked in?"

Ignoring him, she asked, "did you hear that," mock innocence attempting to disguise her voice. "I think my cell phone just rang. I should," she motioned towards the stairs, picking Michael up from his swing to take him with her. "Feel free to have some lunch," she offered, pointing towards the leftovers littering the dining room table. "I'm just going to….yeah." With that, she turned around and started to make her way up the stairs, but his voice made her stop and stand still.

"Webber." Still she said nothing. "No more giving the guards alcohol during their shifts." A quick nod of her head told him she had heard his order. "Besides," a teasing note entered his voice, "it would take a lot more than one beer to make Johnny talk, and, while you have ways of getting men to do things, not even your tricks would work. If you really wanted to know something about me, all you had to do was ask." He went to leave, picking up his leather jacket and slipping it on as he approached the door; she still hadn't moved. "Oh, and Elizabeth, we will be continuing this conversation." With that, he opened the door for himself and disappeared as quickly as he had arrived, never telling her what he had come home for or what exactly he had overheard. While her tricks might not have worked on Johnny, they apparently worked on Jason Morgan, and that brought the impish sparkle back to her glittering sapphire orbs. Now, all she had to do was wait.

He was supposed to be working on the books; accounting always seemed to relax him, but, instead of tallying deposits and withdrawals or balancing the warehouse's check book, he was keeping a running mark of every time Elizabeth sighed. After coming home from a long day of work, she had tersely directed him towards the takeout being kept warm in the oven and asked him to tuck in Michael on his own for she had studying to do for her midterms. Once he was finished, he joined her in the living room, and, an hour later, as he looked down at his notepad and counted, he realized she had sighed exactly 57 times in almost that many minutes. Obviously, neither of them were accomplishing anything productive, but at least he realized it.

"Get up," he directed the order at her. Without waiting for a response, he was already moving across the room to where his keys and jacket were.

"Oh," she realized, sighing again. Eyes downcast, a pleasant pink blush stealing onto her cheeks, she hastily apologized. "I didn't realize I was bothering you. I'll go upstairs."

"Yes, you will," Jason agreed with her, "to change."

"What?" Her confusion was evident. "I can't change," Elizabeth exclaimed, looking at him as if he had lost his mind. "These are my study pajamas. I can't wear anything else."

"Unless you want all of Port Charles to see you in a pair of cotton pants that have the letters A, B, and C planted across your backside, you'll change." When she continued to stare at him in bewilderment, he explained. "It's obvious you're not getting anything accomplished, and, when you can't work or concentrate, you distract me so that I can't either. So, we're going for a ride to clear your head."

"Clear my head," she squeaked out. "That's the last thing I need to do! It's taken me hours to cram in what I have so far, and you want me to just let it go, to forget? Are you crazy?"

"Five minutes, Webber," Jason instructed. "If you're not ready to go by then, I'm coming upstairs, picking you up, and carrying you to the parking garage over my shoulder. It's your choice. You can either come voluntarily or I'll help you. Besides," he drawled out, smirking at her, "there's still a conversation I've been meaning to have with you. Don't think I forgot about that." Not waiting for her to respond, he moved to the door, threw it open, and quickly told Johnny he would be babysitting for a couple of hours that evening, and, when he turned back around to put his papers away, Elizabeth was still standing there. "You're down to four minutes."

Apparently, that was all she needed to spur her into actions, and, as he watched her with an amused grin tugging at the corners of his stubborn mouth, she ran up the stairs, mumbling and talking to herself the entire time, saying something about Tarzan and surely, in all likelihood, cursing his name. Twenty minutes later, they were at Vista Point, her ecstatic shrieks and infectious giggles still resounding through his ears as he led her to the railing. Neither had said a word to the other after they left the penthouse, and, as they stood with their shoulders brushing, simply staring out at the night skyline of Port Charles, Jason remained silent, waiting for her to speak first. He knew she would eventually, she always did, but he was curious to see what she would say, so he waited patiently, enjoying the view…in more ways than one.

Finally, she broke the stillness. Turning her face up to lock her gaze with his, she asked, her voice a rich mixture of awe, appreciation, and gratitude, "how did you find this place?"

"I'll make you a deal," Jason bargained. "I'll answer your questions if you answer one of mine."

"Done."

"Alright," he nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets before speaking. "I really didn't find this place. By the way it's called Vista Point. I just….stumbled upon it one night. I was out for a drive, needed to clear my head, and, suddenly here it was. It helps me to stop thinking when I need some peace and quiet, and it calms me down if I do need to concentrate on something."

"I like it here," Elizabeth simply stated, smiling up at him before grimacing in dread. "What's your question?"

"What were you and Johnny discussing about me last week?"

"It's no big deal," she dismissed quickly, shrugging her shoulders. "Somehow we got on the topic of your motorcycle, and, when he tried to make a point about me riding on it, I asked about the other women you allowed on it. I guess I was surprised to find out that it's kind of a private thing for you."

"Why?"

"Well," the brunette was flustered, searching her mind for an answer. "I guess because you barely know me, and you didn't hesitate even for a second that night to let me ride with you."

"You were in danger, and it was the quickest way to get you out of the situation."

"But why tonight," she pressed, curious. "Why did you insist I come out with you on the bike tonight?"

"Because you like it," Jason said easily, shrugging his shoulders, "and I thought you could use something to get your mind off of your test tomorrow."

"Well, thank you," she replied sincerely, hooking her head towards a bench in a silent request for him to sit with her. After a moment, she turned to him, seeing his smirk, but ignoring it. "So, whose turn is it to ask a question?"

"Mine," he answered smugly, especially when she started to pout. "I'll take it easy on you, Webber. What's your test on tomorrow?"

"19th Century European history," Elizabeth complained. "Why my advisor thought it was a good idea for me to take a world history course, I'll never know."

"It's good to understand and learn from history. It's the only way we, as humans, prevent ourselves from making the same mistakes twice."

"It's still about as interesting as watching a blank TV screen."

"I don't get why people watch that garbage." Shrugging the blonde man continued. "Why watch something that's not real when you could read about new and interesting, real things?" As he noticed her rather doubtful look of disbelief, he explained. "It's just something I've never really understood….well ever since the accident."

"Oh," Elizabeth apologized, tinting a delicious shade of pink due to her embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

Rather harshly, he responded, "don't be," before softening his tone and asking, "why, why are you sorry? Are you sorry that the accident happened at all or just that you brought it up?"

"No, that's not….I don't….well….um….what?"

He laughed at her confused rambling, her nonsensical question. "Why did you apologize?"

"Because I inadvertently brought up something that's really personal, that's absolutely none of my business, that's why." Rushing on, the brunette continued to explain. "Of course I've heard about your accident; I haven't been living under a rock for the past six months, and, when you're mentioned in the newspapers, so is the accident, but I've never considered it any of my business, so I never asked about it or looked it up. But, here you are right now, mentioning it, and I feel as if I've overstepped my boundaries."

"Boundaries as what, my nanny or my friend?"

Surprised, her swirling, alive blue eyes opened wide and stared at him. "We're friends?" His soft laughter only served to further shock her, and her plump mouth fell open in a gentle, rounded gasp.

"Elizabeth," he captured her attention, his eyes focusing upon hers and drawing out her humiliation and astonishment. "If you were just my nanny, we wouldn't be here, and, as for my accident, it doesn't bother me to talk about it. There's not much to say. AJ, that's my brother…I guess, got drunk, I tried to stop him from driving, and he ended up crashing us into a tree. I was in a comma and woke up not remembering who I was. It's like I've lived two separate lives, and, ever since, I've basically just accepted things without question. I don't look back, so, if I'm not sorry, you can't be."

Stunning him, she confessed, "I can't be sorry either. If you wouldn't have been in that accident, I never would have gotten this job as Michael's nanny. I wouldn't have met him, or Johnny and the rest of the boys, or….you. Maybe that makes me selfish…."

"It makes you honest," he interrupted her, smiling slightly. "It makes you rational, truthful, and genuine, all good things in my book."

They were silent for several minutes, simply enjoying the stillness of the night, the solitude of the cliff, and the company of the person beside them. It was something that neither of them had experienced before: a person whom they could just **be** with. It was nice, but, like all nice moments, it had to come to an end.

"Sometimes I wish I could do something like that," Elizabeth admitted, turning to face Jason. "It's not that I'd want to hurt my family or injure myself, but the idea of getting to start my life over, become the person I want to be without anyone's expectations or rules guiding me, to choose my own friends and my own family, to live the life I covet instead of trying to please not only myself but those who claim to love me, it's a very tempting thought."

"You don't need to lose your memory to become your own person."

"Maybe not," she mused, tilting her head to watch him closely, "but it sure would make things less complicated." Offering him a reassuring smile, she stood up and continued talking. "It's okay though; I'm happy with my life right now. I finally have a family member in my life who accepts me for who I am, who loves me unconditionally, I have a good job and a very comfortable lifestyle thanks to you, and I'm half a semester closer to graduating with spring break coming up next week. Like doesn't get much better than that, does it?"

Instead of focusing upon the fact that she claimed to be happy, Jason's mind instantly fused with the idea of his nanny going on spring break. "You're going away?"

"What?"

Moving to stand beside her, his gaze were trained to his feet, avoiding any eye contact. "I might not have gone to college, but I know what people do for spring break, Elizabeth. Do you need the week off?" He swallowed thickly, his hands clenched in his pockets, and his jaw tightened under a strain he didn't understand and didn't want to analyze. "Are you going away with your friends….with a date?"

She did the last thing he expected: she laughed. "Didn't I tell you I was done with dating?" When he didn't say anything, she pressed. "No, I'm not going away. I didn't want to ask for a week off when I've only been working for you for two months now."

"It wouldn't be a problem, Elizabeth."

"Maybe not to you, but I didn't think it would be right. Besides," she added, shrugging off his concern, "it's not like I ever do anything for spring break anyway. Normally, I spend the week dividing my time equally between sleeping, Ben and Jerry's, and Nick at Nick." When he looked up at her with obvious, perplexed questions in his eyes, she waved his query off. "Don't ask. It's really lame. Anyway," the brunette continued, "I'll just work my normal hours and hang out with my Gram when you need me out of your hair. No big deal."

"I'm not going to have you miss out on things because you work for me. You're going on a trip."

Speechless, she stared up at him. Finally, she muttered, "but, what about Michael? Who's going to take care of him if I'm off on some Caribbean beach and you're working? Johnny can hold down the fort for an hour or two, but a whole day is a horse of a different color."

Ever the problem solver, Jason declared, "then we'll go with you," further shocking his nanny. Noticing her flabbergasted expression, he pressed. "You'll help take care of Michael like you normally do during the days, but then the night's you can have all to yourself as long as you take a guard out with you."

"A guard?"

"Of course. You don't really think I'd let you go anywhere without one, do you? Even if you were going away with friends, Francis would be going with you."

"I'm sure he'd love that," Elizabeth grumbled under her breath, rolling her eyes, but Jason just kept talking, ignoring her sarcastic comment.

"We'll take Johnny and Max with us as well, and we can stay in one of the casino's private villas. The guys can all bunk together, Michael can stay with me, and, that way, you can have your own room with some privacy. I know the island well enough, so I can be your guide. I'll call and make all the arrangements, and we'll leave Saturday morning." Walking back towards his motorcycle, he waved for her to follow, his mind already on another topic. "Let's go, and, when we get back, I'll help you study." Before she could respond, he started quizzing her. "What years did WWI occur during?"

"I don't know," Elizabeth sputtered, running to chase after him. "1912 to 1915? By the way, where exactly are we going?"

"Wrong," Jason answered. "WWI occurred between the years of 1914 and 1918, and I'm not answering any of your questions about the trip until you get one of my questions right. What year was the 19th Amendment passed? You should get this, Webber."

"Why should I know anything about the 19th Amendment," she asked while climbing behind him on the motorcycle as he handed her the helmet. "Do I look like I'm someone who's interested in politics?"

"The 19th Amendment was passed in 1920, and you should know about it, because it gave women the right to vote."

Cheekily, she replied, "that's all well and good, Jason, but I'm not studying United States history, just European." Chuckling, she wrapped her arms around his waist, teasing him further. "It seems as if someone isn't as smart as they thought they were. Do you need me to get Michael's globe out when we get home and give you a geography lesson? And this from the man who claimed he could be our tour guide…."

The rest of her words were cut off and replaced with laughter as he started the bike, pealing out onto the road and causing gravel and dirt to fly from his spinning tires. For the whole ride back to the penthouse, her giggles and squeals of mirth were the only sounds Jason could here; the rush of the wind streaming past them, the roar of the motorcycle beneath them, and the steady drum of the passing traffic faded into the distanced to be replaced with only one thing: Elizabeth. Instead of needing his bike to escape into nothingness, away from all the chaos and mayhem of everyday life, he only needed her. Little did he know that he was her distraction from reality as well.

"I'm so sorry about this," Elizabeth apologized to Audrey for what might have been the tenth time that morning. "I know we normally go out for breakfast together on Saturday mornings, but Francis couldn't come with me, because he had to finish packing for the trip, Max is off checking in with the pilot to make sure that the plane is ready for take off, and Johnny couldn't watch Michael for me, because he had a last minute tanning appointment, something I've been sworn to secrecy about, because, if the rest of the guys found out about it…."

"Elizabeth, dear, it's fine," the older woman interrupted her, patting her granddaughter's hand and offering her a gentle, sympathetic smile. "In fact, I'm glad this happened. I've been meaning to come by and see where you're living." Looking around the penthouse, Audrey shook her head slowly as her brow buried in concentration. "It certainly is…. restrictive."

"Gram," Elizabeth started before she was cut off.

"No, let me say this," the elderly woman continued talking. "I'm not going to lecture you; you're an adult and you can make your own decisions, but, Elizabeth, dear, look at this place. There's security clearance when you step into the building, cameras in all the hallways and the elevator, guards at the door, and I think we both know that's bullet proof glass you're looking out of right now. This is not a house; this is a prison."

"I don't feel trapped or jailed here," she countered, turning away from the balcony doors to face her grandmother. "In fact, I feel at home here. Those things you mentioned are just safety precautions, and, sure, perhaps in an ideal world, I wouldn't need them, but, if those guards weren't out there to watch over me and Michael and Jason, then I'd be down three friends, and, considering the total amount of friends I have in this town are five and one of them is just a baby, that would be a considerable loss."

"They're paid to watch over you, to spend time with you; they're not your friends. Friends don't carry guns with them or know how to snap a man's neck with their bare hands."

"Yes, it's Johnny's job to stand guard at the door, it's Max's job to drive me around, and it's Francis' job to constantly be at my side when I go out, but they're not paid to help me go to the store to pick out paint colors for Michael's nursery, they're not paid to sit around and watch movies with me on a Friday night when Jason's out on business, and they're not paid to laugh at my jokes even when they're not funny. They're good guys, Gram, and, no matter what you say, they're my friends. Do you think Johnny would have gotten up early, off the clock, to go out and buy us breakfast this morning if he wasn't my friend; would he have remembered that I like extra whipped cream and cinnamon in my hot chocolate or that I prefer the strawberry jelly at Kelly's over the grape? I don't think so."

"Alright, fine," Audrey conceded, "perhaps the men who guard you are your friends, but that doesn't mean I can't worry about you."

"I'm good, Gram," the brunette promised, smiling at the older woman. "In fact, I'm more than good; I'm happy here. I like my life, and Jason won't let anything happen to me."

Just as Michael started fussing on the baby monitor, the nurse commented, "I find it interesting that you call your boss by his first name. As the nanny, wouldn't it be more appropriate for you to call him Mr. Morgan?"

Ignoring the question, Elizabeth climbed the stairs to get Michael, tossing a quick response over her shoulder towards her grandmother. "I'll be right back. It's time for Michael's mid-morning bottle, but, while I'm changing him, go ahead and start eating, and, when I get back down, you'll finally be able to meet the little guy." True to her word, the younger woman returned five minutes later to find Audrey sitting at the table and quietly sipping a cup of tea. "Gram, I'd like you to meet Michael; Michael," she turned and nuzzled the baby's nose affectionately, dropping a light kiss against the crown of his head before continuing, "this is my Grandma."

"He seems like quite the content, happy infant," Audrey smiled at her granddaughter. "No offense, dear, but I never knew you were the maternal type. I don't even think I've ever seen you hold a child before, let alone an infant."

Elizabeth laughed. "That's because I hadn't before Michael. I have no idea what possessed Jason to hire me, from what I hear from Johnny he was getting pretty desperate, and, by the time I showed up, his main prerequisite was sanity, but, whatever the reasons, I'm glad he did. This little guy and I," she played with the baby in her arms, bouncing him slightly and making him laugh, "are good friends."

"I hired your granddaughter, Mrs. Hardy," Jason announced as he walked through the door, tossing his leather jacket on top of the desk, and slightly startling the two women, "because she was in good health, had basic first aid training, had no noticeable bad habits besides rambling, and because she was kind. I knew everything else would come to her naturally, and now look at her. She's great with Michael. He loves her."

"So he does," the older woman agreed, watching Elizabeth closely for a moment before turning back to the man standing in front of her.

"It's nice to meet you," Jason offered, holding his hand out for Audrey to shake. "Elizabeth has told me a lot about you, and I'm glad she finally listened to me and invited you over. You're always welcome here."

"Thank you, Mr. Morgan…."

"Please," he interrupted her with a kind nod of his head, "it's Jason."

"Listen to him, Gram," Elizabeth instructed. "The only person that he knows that gets away with calling him Mr. Morgan is his accountant, Benny, and that's just because he's too set in his formal ways to change."

"Very well," Audrey agreed as she watched Jason cross to her granddaughter and lift Michael from her arms. Their movements were fluid, comfortable, almost intimate as if, instead of an employer interacting with his employee, they were a couple taking care of their child together.

"Why don't I take him upstairs with me while I pack, so that you and your Grandma can spend some time together?"

"Well, I haven't fed him his mid-morning bottle yet," the young brunette responded, letting her hand trail smoothly down the little boy's chubby leg, his fingers barely brushing against Jason's chest and abdomen.

"That's okay," he assured her, "I'll do it." Before he could walk away though, she stopped him.

"Oh, I hope you don't mind, but I went ahead and packed yours and Michael's bag this morning. I wasn't sure when you'd get home, and I didn't want you to have to worry about rushing around and getting ready. All three of our bags are sitting out in the hallway. I knew better than to carry them downstairs on my own, and I didn't want to bother the guard on the door, because I don't know him that well."

"Marco wouldn't have minded helping," Jason told her, "but, it's no problem. I'll carry them down." He started walking away towards the kitchen to make Michael a new bottle but then stopped. "And Elizabeth," he waited for her to turn back around to look at him, "thanks."

With that, he left the room, her eyes following his every movement while Audrey's eyes intently watched her granddaughter's, the tentative smile on her face falling into a worried frown. For several minutes neither of the women said a thing as they both seemed lost in another world. They were still standing there when Jason reappeared with Michael, the prepared bottle in his hand, and, once again, the older woman watched the younger one as she followed her boss' every movement, her eyes lighting up with warmth and tenderness as soon as the father and his son reentered the room. If Jason noticed the attention, he didn't let on and just simply continued on his way, leaving a small grin on Elizabeth's face and fear in Audrey's eyes.

"Oh, sweetheart, what are you doing to yourself?"

Confused, Elizabeth turned to her grandmother. "What are you talking about?"

"I might be old, dear, but I'm not blind," Audrey chuckled softly. Motioning for the younger woman to take a seat at the table, she reclaimed the chair she had been sitting in early. "I understand that it's easy to get attached to children when they're in your care, but Michael is not your son, Elizabeth."

"I know that, Gram."

"Do you?"

"Of course I do," the younger woman snapped, shoving back the chair she was sitting in, standing up, and harshly tossing her napkin down on top of the table. "I'm just the nanny. Trust me, that is abundantly clear. No matter what I do or how much I care, I'll never be more than the nanny. Don't you think I tell myself that everyday, but that doesn't stop me from loving that little boy, and it shouldn't. His Mom isn't here; I don't know where she is, so, as long as Jason needs me, I will be here for that little boy; I will be the female influence in his life."

"And what are you going to do if his Mom does come back?"

Folding her arms over her chest, Elizabeth glanced out the window, avoiding her grandmother's piercing gaze. "I'm sure they'll still need a nanny."

"But what if she comes back for more than just Michael?" When the younger woman didn't respond, Audrey pushed. "What if she comes back for Jason, too? Do not even try to tell me you only care for the son, because I can tell right now that you're falling for the father, and, Elizabeth, sweetheart, this is an impossible situation."

"Even if I did care about Jason," the brunette finally spoke up, turning around to face the older woman still seated at the table, "and that's not an admission, but, even if I did, nothing is going to happen. He's my boss; I'm his son's nanny, nothing more. Jason doesn't look at me like that. To him, I'm some young kid who goes to college, takes care of his kid, clutters his penthouse, eats all his food, talks too much, and knows nothing about European history. In fact, I think, if anything, I drive him crazy. So, you don't have to worry about me, Gram. There's nothing going on between Jason and I, and there never will be."

"Elizabeth, dear, I love you; you're the most important person in my life, but you have no idea what you're talking about. You are the most beautiful and kind hearted woman I've ever known, but you're also young, inexperienced, and confused. You're falling for that man upstairs, and, if you're not careful, you're going to realize that he's falling for you, too." Standing up, she crossed the room and placed her hands gently on her granddaughter's shoulders, squeezing them softly. "I don't want to see you hurt, and falling for Jason Morgan will only end one way, sweetheart, and that's with your heart broken." Kissing her temple, she backed away and grabbed her things to leave. "Thank you for breakfast, and I hope you enjoy your trip. Make sure you call me as soon as you land so that I know you arrived safely."

"I will, Gram."

"And don't forget," Audrey added with a tentative smile, "I wear a medium t-shirt." As she listened to Elizabeth's soft laughter, she blew her a kiss and opened the door to leave. "I love you, and I want what's best for you. Just think about what I've said….all of it."

With one last wistful, slightly apprehensive glance towards the younger woman, she left the penthouse, letting the guard close the door quietly behind her. Their breakfast had been brief, not a fork lifted or bite of food swallowed, but the conversation they shared would haunt Elizabeth's mind, making her question her feelings towards both her boss and his son, making her second guess her own instincts, and making her wonder if what her Grandmother said about Jason falling in love with her was true. After all, she thought to herself as she continued to stare out the balcony doors while the gentle sounds of his and Michael's movement above her lulled her into a sense of comfort and security, he couldn't….._could he_?


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

She had always been leery of flying, and that was just with commercial flights. A private jet, a small, turbulence prone suicide box of metal was a whole different ball game, and her traveling companions didn't help matters either. Johnny had found her constant, nervous fidgeting to be amusing and proceeded to taunt her, saying that if she continued to tap her foot so harshly against the floor, she'd wear a hole in the carpet and Jason would fire her and make her travel back to Port Charles in the cargo hold. Francis, quiet, dependable, reticent Francis, had settled down across the plane from her with a book and ensued to forget about her after he patted her hand reassuringly while walking towards his seat. Max, the lovable teddy bear that he was, played video games, of course on mute so as not to disturb Michael. Not surprising her at all, Jason used the quiet time on the plane to catch up on paperwork. She couldn't even take care of Michael, because, ten minutes into the flight, the little boy had fallen asleep, apparently lulled to rest by the gentle swaying of the plane. So, with no one to talk to besides a teasing Johnny, Elizabeth had contended herself with practicing her deep breathing techniques in order to calm down. However, as soon as she succeeded in channeling her anxious energy into positive thoughts, the devil incarnate, Irish man sitting across from her casually noted that they were flying across the Bermuda Triangle, and, from that point on, she was a goner. Not even the Dali Lama could have helped to calm her down at that point.

Despite her negative premonitions, all six passengers arrived safely to their destination. An hour, three cabs, and a bevy of bellhops later, they were safely checked into their hotel suite. Perhaps sensing the upcoming battle for beds the three guards were preparing to unleash upon them, Jason diplomatically assigned rooms. Per his instructions, Elizabeth was placed in the master suite, so that her room would be on the opposite side of everyone else's and so that she could have her own bathroom. The guards were all sharing the second largest bedroom, while he and Michael took the smallest one. Despite all her best arguments and reasoning that Michael should stay with her, after all, Elizabeth repeatedly told Jason, she was his nanny, her boss had refused, claiming she was supposed to be on vacation and would not have to help take care of Michael. Hitting her with another directive when she was still down for the count, Jason insisted that she leave her things behind in the room for the maid to unpack, that he would get Michael ready for bed, and that she should immediately go out onto the island and have fun. There were nightclubs, restaurants, sports bars, and, of course, the beach, and he told her she could stay out as late as she wanted; there was no reporting in and, as long as they didn't detect any trouble, she could come and go as she pleased without a guard.

So, in clothes still wrinkled from the flight, Elizabeth had let Jason push her out of the hotel room with no destination in mind and then continued to wander through the grounds aimlessly. As night descended, the sun's light being replaced with that from the moon, the stars, and the sporadically placed tiki torches around the hotel property, she slowly regained her bearings. Because of the plane ride and her constant worrying, Elizabeth realized that she was tired, too tired to explore the city. Plus, she had no idea where they were yet, and the idea of going to a dance club didn't appeal to her if she was going to be alone. For once, she wished the guards were at her side, because she knew that with a few margaritas in them to loosen their inhibitions, they would be fun to hang out with…well at least Johnny would be. Francis would never dance, and Max would, in all likelihood, blind someone with his ever uncontrollable elbows. Plus, even if the three amigos could patrol the night life with her, Elizabeth wasn't sure she would take them up on the offer. On her first night of vacation, nothing sounded better than giving Michael his bath, letting the delicate scent of his soap and baby powder wash a sense of calm and serenity over her before she tucked him in, having a light dinner, and then crawling into her five star, luxury bed and falling asleep to the faint sounds of the waves lapping against the shore. With that vision of her night in her mind, Elizabeth stopped dead in her tracks, turned around, and promptly walked back to their hotel suite. Unfortunately, when she got there, she realized that Jason had sent her to explore the city so quickly after they arrived, that she forgot to ask him for a key card, so she was forced to knock. It didn't take long for the door to swing open.

"Just leave the food by the door," her boss's voice told her. Obviously, he was expecting someone else, probably room service.

"I would if I could," Elizabeth quipped, pushing through the entrance and capturing his attention. His back was already towards her as she strode into the room, but Jason quickly turned around to peer at the petite brunette who had an amused smirk on her face. "However, if we left something I made by the door, the smell of it might scare the three stooges away for the night."

"Worse things could happen," he returned, shrugging indifferently. "I think we're already running a 60-40 chance that at least one of them won't return tonight as it is."

"Where did they go?"

"Out, like you were supposed to," Jason answered. "Speaking of which, is something wrong? I didn't expect to see you again for a few hours."

"I'm not in the mood to socialize with strangers tonight," Elizabeth answered him easily. "And before you say anything," she cautioned him, "this is my vacation as you've reminded me several times already, so I think I should be able to spend it doing whatever I want. If that means I stay in at night and take care of Michael, then you will just have to accept it."

He regarded her closely, his gaze inquisitive but not at all surprised. "You already missed him, didn't you?"

"What can I say," she retorted in jest, "I'm a sucker for drool. My night just isn't complete with at least one puddle on my shoulder." Sobering her tone, she confessed. "I always help you put Michael to bed at night. I don't want him to think that something is wrong, that I forgot or left, and, to be honest, I know that I'd never enjoy myself without knowing he was tucked in safely and sleeping soundly. Yes, it's my job to watch him, but I care about Michael because I want to."

"Okay," Jason agreed, offering her a tentative smile. "Call down to room service then and have them add whatever you want to my order. We'll get Michael ready for bed together like we normally do, and then I'll let you have free reign of the suite, and you can do whatever you want."

"Or," she suggested shyly, "we could take a baby monitor out with us onto the beach and sit outside while we eat. You could tell me about where we're at, and I could come up with the quick witted, remarkable questions to spur you into actually talking."

"I guess that could work as well."

"Good," Elizabeth beamed up at him, her diminutive height causing her to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. With the phone in her hand to place the call for her dinner, she, once again, asked, "so where really did the boys go?"

"Max went to cock fight."

"Aren't those illegal," she asked, eyes wide with worry for her friend.

"Not here," Jason quickly reassured her. "It's actually a pretty popular past time. He'll be fine…as long as he doesn't lose."

"I don't want to know," Elizabeth muttered under her breath, realizing there was a story behind her boss's cryptic response. "What about Francis? I can't see him placing bets on a bird."

"Francis went for a walk, said he was hoping to find a concert in the park or an art gallery that was open late. And don't worry," Jason put her at ease, "he said to let you know that if he finds something he thinks you'll like, he'll let you know about it tomorrow morning. As for Johnny, he went out looking for the three T's."

Mumbling under her breath, the brunette quipped, "this ought be good."

"Tequila, Tramps, and Trouble."

Not only did she find the acronym amusing, the slight blush that stole its way onto her employer's cheeks made Elizabeth laugh heartily. Before she could even harass him, Jason fled down the hallway towards the room he was sharing with Michael, leaving her to stare after him while she placed her call for dinner. They had only been there for a couple of hours, but Elizabeth could already tell that the trip was going to be fun. Just how much fun though, that was left to be seen.

"What do you say," Max prodded the other two guards, "she's the color of a lobster, isn't she?"

"Nah," Johnny argued after accessing an appraising look at his younger, female friend. "Lobster red is too orange for Webber. She's a much deeper shade…more like the color of a red delicious apple."

"But that's too maroon," Francis countered. "You two are no judge of pigment. Max is as about aesthetically inclined as a color-blind ape, and you, O'Brien, you're still hung over from last night. Now, I on the other hand, happen to be a lover of the arts…."

"Yeah," Johnny snickered, "that's the only thing you've been lovin' lately."

Ignoring him, the eldest guard continued. "And I'd have to say that Elizabeth is the shade of a cherry tomato. Wouldn't you agree, Jason?"

Their boss merely glared at them in response.

"I know what you guys are doing," the brunette is question chided them. "You think that you'll be able to scare me into thinking my burn is worse than it really is. I know that I got a little too much sun, but, because I'm so fair skinned, I have to burn before I can tan, and I'm determined to go back to Port Charles looking as golden as the four of you guys."

"But Liz," Max argued, "the sun's different here than it is at home. It's stronger, and, because we were out on the boat all day, it was also reflecting off the water. You're fried, and you'll be lucky if you don't get sun poisoning, too. I had that once," he continued, becoming wistful. "I was at a spa in Mexico and fell asleep outside after getting a massage. Spent the next day in the hospital."

"You're such a girl, Giambetti," Johnny teased the burly guard walking beside him. "Webber will be fine. We'll liquor her up tonight so bad that, when she wakes up tomorrow, the only thing she'll be able to think about is her hangover. Suddenly, her sun burn will be the last thing on her mind."

Ever the more mature of the three men, Francis pointed out, "alcohol could further dehydrate her. Elizabeth probably shouldn't come out with us tonight."

Walking into their suite, she dismissed her friends' concern. "Would the three of you quit talking about me like I'm three years old? It's not like I didn't use any sun-block. I'm probably just lightly pink….or not," she realized as she suddenly found herself standing in front of a mirror. Oh boy," she exclaimed, "this is not good."

"Told you, Webber," Johnny teased her. "It's too bad it's not Halloween though, because you'd make a great devil."

"Well, it's too bad you wear your costume every day," Elizabeth tossed back at him. "A horse's ass!" Other than giving her the bird, the Irish man didn't respond, and she turned back to the mirror while the three guards stood around her, watching, and Jason took Michael into their room so he could be put him down for a nap. "I really didn't think it would be this bad," she lamented. "It doesn't even hurt."

"Just you wait," Francis warned her gently, "it will."

"It's fine now," Max filled in helpfully, "because you're not putting any pressure on it. The only parts of your body that are being pressed right now are the bottoms of your feet, and they're about the only thing you didn't fry."

"If you had on a little bit more, that would help, too."

"What are you talking about, Johnny," she turned, angry, and yelled at her friend. "This suit, out of all of the ones I brought with me, has the most coverage."

"That should prove to be entertaining. I thought someone's eyes were about to pop out today, and she claims this is her most sedate bathing suit," Max quipped to Francis with a chuckle, but neither of the other two fighting members of their group heard his comment.

"It's strapless, practically backless, and your legs are bare!"

"But it covers most of my stomach, my back is not bare, and the briefs are modestly cut," Elizabeth continued to argue with him. "As for the other two suits, one is a tie front, halter top bikini with low rise bottoms while the other is has a string, triangle top and skirted bottoms."

"Like I know what all that gibberish means," Johnny complained. "What," he continued when she didn't say anything else, "don't you have any cover ups?"

"I have one," she admitted, "but it's too hot to wear a cover up, and how would it help me get a tan? Besides," the brunette continued to argue, "if you can go around without a shirt on, how is it fair to expect me to be dressed like a virginal nun?"

"Because you're a nanny," the Irish man protested, "and nannies don't dress like that."

"And how many nannies do you know, O'Brien?"

"Alright, fine," he conceded, "none, but Mary Poppins didn't look like you?"

"Mary Poppins was from the 60's, and it was a Disney movie. If you're looking for sexual figures in one of their films, you're going to have to look for something more subtle than the main character. Plus, we only got to see what Mary was like with the children. Perhaps when she took a spoonful of sugar for herself, arguably a drug reference, she let down her hair, took off her petticoats, and ran around London in her chemise."

"That's it," Francis interrupted their spat, "the sun's gone to her head. It's time to make her the two D's."

Frustrated, Elizabeth bemoaned, "what is with you guys and acronyms when you're on vacation? You're supposed to be helping me to relax not confusing the hell out of me."

"The two D's stand for Drunk and Disorderly," Max answered her unvoiced yet hinted at question. "And you, my dear, are about to cause a ruckus." Taking her by the arm, the largest of the three guards started directing her towards her room. "Now listen," he instructed, "you're going to go and get changed so that the three of us can take you out. Wear something cool enough so that you'll be comfortable in it, something loose enough so it won't irritate your burn, and something conservative enough so that O'Brien over there doesn't get his granny panties in a bunch." Her only response was a yawn. "As for the boss," Max promised confidently, "just leave him to us. We'll make sure that Mor…."

"That Jason what," Elizabeth asked as her friend trailed off.

"Yeah, Max," a fourth male voice, slightly deeper and definitely perturbed, joined their group, "you'll make sure that I what?"

"That you…that you," the big man stuttered, unable to come up with an acceptable answer.

"That you know we're leaving soon and that you have everything you need for the night," Francis stepped in, helping out the younger guard.

Not believing them, Jason ignored the comment. With his arms crossed firmly across his chest and a scowl across his face, he barked, "I want to talk to Elizabeth." When no one moved, he snapped, "alone!"

"Don't worry about them," the petite woman stuck up for her friends after they had scrambled down the hall towards their room. "They're just trying to make me forget about my burn so that I feel better."

"I know exactly what they're up to, and it has nothing to do with making you feel better. What they have in mind for you will give you three things: a hangover, a night in jail cell, and orders never to return to Puerto Rico. True me," he confided, "they've done this before. Why do you think their passports for this trip say Ron O'Ryan, Frank Donnelly, and Dax Giavenchy?"

"Okay, so you have a point," Elizabeth conceded. "But you don't need to worry about me. I can hold my own. I'm not as innocent as I seem."

"I'm well aware of that," Jason agreed with her. Although his face was completely straight as he said it, the amused twinkle in his eyes led her to believe there was an underlying meaning to his words. "However, you really don't seem as if you want to go out. How are you really feeling?"

"Tired," she admitted rather begrudgingly, "and, with the fans on in the room, chilled."

"You're probably going to run a light fever, because of your sunburn, and I have a whole day planned for us tomorrow touring San Juan. If you're already tired…."

"It might not be such a good idea to go out with the boys tonight," Elizabeth realized. "Alright, let's go break the news to them." Motioning with her head back towards the boys' room, Jason followed her. After knocking on the door, Francis answered and let them inside, leaving the entryway open. "I think I'm just going to stay in tonight," the blue eyed beauty admitted with an apologetic smile. "I'm tired, I don't really feel well, and, as I've heard from the three of you more times than I can count, it's only going to get worse as the night wears on. You guys should just go on without me."

"We can't leave you behind, Webber," Johnny argued with her. "If you don't want to leave the room, we'll help you get blitzed here."

"No one's helping her get blitzed," their boss spoke up. "That's the last thing she needs."

"Then we'll stay and eat dinner with you," Max offered. "We can buy some movies off of the TV, talk, maybe go for a walk after dark."

"This isn't a girl scout sleepover, Giambetti," Francis griped. Turning back to their younger friend, he softened his voice. "We will stay though and make sure you're feeling okay, Elizabeth."

"Guys, that's not necessary," she protested.

"She's right," Jason agreed. "The three of you are technically on vacation, too, so go out and have fun. I'll take care of her and make sure she's okay."

"You will," Johnny taunted him, questioning his employer's ability to care for his nanny. "What are you going to, give her an ice pack, slap her on the back, and give her the night off?"

"Three words for you, O'Brien," the blonde countered. "Detective Ramón's Daughter."

"Time to go, boys," the Irish man ordered, shepherding his two friends and fellow guards out of the room. "The night's not getting any younger, Max isn't getting any thinner, Francis is getting any prettier, and I'm not getting any drunker."

With that, they were out of their room, down the hall, and out the door before either Jason or Elizabeth could laugh at the statement.

"Listen, Michael's going to be out for a while; he's exhausted, and, when he does eventually wake up, the only thing he's going to want to do is eat and go back to sleep. So, while I go out and pick us up some dinner and some supplies for your burn, why don't you take cool bath, change out of your suit, and get comfortable. I'll be back in about a half an hour." Before he left though, he turned around and walked back towards her. Gently touching her chin, he lifted her face up to look at his, noticing the slight blush on her cheeks despite her burn. "And don't worry about what those three morons said. You'll be fine. I won't let you get sick." And, with that, he was gone.

True to his word, Jason was back within thirty minutes. Although she was still soaking in the tub, enjoying the cool sensations of the water against her warmed skin, Elizabeth could hear him moving around in the hotel suite, and the sound comforted her. Not only did he bring them back dinner, but he bought beer for himself and wine coolers for her, aloe Vera lotion for her sunburn, and even popsicles just because he thought she might like them. After putting on a light sundress, she settled out onto the veranda with him while they enjoyed their dinner, talking quietly or simply appreciating the sunset and ensuing fall of night. As he predicted Michael woke up long enough to eat and then proceeded to fall back to sleep as he lay resting in his father's arms, never even finishing his bottle. Jason put him to bed and then came back out, once again, to sit with Elizabeth.

Nursing his fourth beer of the night, he asked her, "so, have you ever been to the Caribbean before?"

"Are you kidding me," Elizabeth answered with a laugh. "It's too civilized here for my parents. Their idea of a family vacation was carting us off to either the neighbors or my Grams so that they could go to some third world country for two weeks during the summer and perform their Good Samaritan deed for the year. I've been in a total of three states and two countries: Colorado, New York, and Massachusetts; The U.S. and Canada, and that was only for my senior trip in high school. What about you?"

"I've done a little more traveling," he replied with a soft laugh. Her curious gaze prompted him to explain. "I've been on every continued but Antarctica, but most of my trips were for business, so I didn't get to see much when I was there."

"There are so many things I want to see, so many places I want to go," she confessed, taking a sip from her third wine cooler. As she pulled it away from her lips and set it back on the arm rest of her chair, she let one long, lithe finger trace the path of a bead of condensation before continuing to talk. "But, if I could go to only one place, I'd want to go to Italy."

"Why Italy?"

"I don't know," Elizabeth reasoned, lazily shrugging her shoulders, "lots of reasons. I'm an artist, and, when you think of art, Italy always comes to mind. There's just so much history, so much culture, so many things that I identify myself with there. I've never really fit in anywhere, and, for some reason, and this is going to sound stupid, but I think I'd fit in there. I could rent a little villa, sell my paintings in a local gallery to the tourists, have my own gardens to grow flowers and vegetables, even help the locals stomp their grapes every year. I might not drink wine, but I'm a big fan of grape juice." Lost in thought, she never heard the soft strains of Jason's laughter floating into the breeze and simply continued to daydream. "I wouldn't own a car. I've never really liked driving, and it wouldn't be convenient for getting around the cities or the old country roads. I'd have a little moped instead, and I would customize it by painting it to fit my own style. I would stay out all night during the summer watching the fireflies or all winter with a mug of hot chocolate as I tried to catch snow flakes on my tongue. Eventually, I'd meet someone, we'd fall in love, get married, and, a few years down the road, we'd have children, four I think. Two's not enough, but, with three, someone always gets left out; four is the perfect number. They'd be my little Italy babies. They'd learn to appreciate their heritage, the customs and traditions of their country, they'd study both the arts and the sciences, and, when they were ready, I'd set them free so that they could be whoever they wanted to be. I wouldn't treat them as extensions of myself and force my own ideas upon them. They'd be individuals with their own personalities, wishes, and dreams; I'd just be the mother they came back to when they needed a shoulder to cry on or a encouraging smile. Eventually, I'd get old, and there would be grandchildren and great-grandchildren, little bursts of life and light to brighten my dulling world. That's what I want," she finished with a sigh. "That's why it's Italy."

Several minutes of silence passed, neither of them speaking, and, by the time he turned to her to comment, she was already asleep, her head lulled against her shoulder, her legs curled up into her body to keep them warm. Standing up and straightening himself out, his muscles protesting faintly as he regained his full height, Jason moved to her side and picked her up to cradle her in his arms as he made his way back into the hotel suite. "It sounds perfect," he whispered into her hair although she couldn't hear him. "Really perfect."

As he carefully laid her down on the bed, slipping off her sandals and pulling the sheets up to lightly cover her vulnerable skin, Elizabeth's arms slowly fell from where they had been around his neck. Leaning down, he whispered, once again. "Goodnight."

"Night, Jason," she mewed, delicately skimming her lips across his cheek. "Thank you."

"For what," he prompted.

"For taking care of me," the drowsy brunette murmured before rolling over into the fetal position and falling fast asleep.

Turning off the bedside lamp, he moved towards the open door and stood there for several minutes simply watching her rest. "I didn't do anything," Jason finally responded before turning around and walking away towards his own room. _At least, not anything he didn't want to do._

"Is this your idea of some kind of sick joke, Morgan," Max bellowed across the stone parapet, "bringing guards on vacation to a fort?"

"Lower your voice," Johnny whispered vehemently. "Not all of us can drink everyone else under the table and still wake up without a hangover because we weight 250 pounds."

"I do not," the youngest guard argued. "If you look on my driver's license it says I weigh 225."

"Which one," Francis quipped, ducking when the defensive Italian took a swing at him.

Breaking into the moment, Jason finally replied. "Perhaps I brought you here so you could learn something about defensive tactics."

"Haha, not funny, man," Johnny glared at his boss. "But the fact that you're making jokes is a dead give away that this place is boring. Can we please just go back to the hotel room? I seriously need to get out of these pants and back into a pair of loose shorts."

"What's wrong, Lurch," Elizabeth taunted him. "Maybe if you wouldn't have taken those shorts off for every senorita with a come hither look, a mattress, and a pimp with a sombrero, you wouldn't be so miserable now. Or, maybe if you would have gone to the doctor yesterday when Francis told you to, we wouldn't have to listen to you whine and complain now. Or, even better," she smirked at him smugly, "maybe if you could get a girl with charm and personality instead of liquor and a few Benjamin's, you wouldn't be walking like you've been on a cattle drive for the past week."

Laughing at their Irish friend's expense, the three other men sent looks of approval in the petite brunette's direction, and Michael made a gurgling sound only a baby could make that expressed his mirth even if he couldn't understand the situation. Glaring at his sparring partner, Johnny finally countered. "You can't seriously tell me that you're having fun here, Webber? For Christ's sake, we're in a god damned fortress, and we can't even play with the guns."

"I think you've played with your gun enough," she smirked, earning herself another glare from the agitated bodyguard, "and this is not just some fortress. It's a World Heritage Site."

"What's that mean," Max asked, curious.

"It means it's considered on the same playing field as the pyramids or Versailles or the Taj Mahal according to The United Nations," she answered.

"Now she sounds like Jason," Johnny grumbled under his breath.

"Well excuse me if I happen to take an interest in history," Elizabeth huffed.

"Of course you do, kid," Francis appeased her, pulling her into a brotherly hug. "Now, why don't you stay here with Jason and Michael while I take these two lug nuts and go find us all some lunch? We'll meet you back here on the northern rampart in an hour, and, after we eat, you and I will take the little guy and go to the Museo de Arte de Ponce while the boss takes the other two kids out surfing."

"Sounds good," she agreed with him, gracing the older man with a radiant smile. "Just don't let O'Brien anywhere near the Tequila. He's drank enough since we've gotten here to open up his own distillery."

Quickly, the three bodyguards disappeared, leaving behind them a trail of curses, complaints, and incomplete babbling. Johnny groused that it was good to get away from Castro, Francis chided him on not knowing his politics, his history, or his geography since Castro ruled Cuba and not Puerto Rico, and Max wondered out loud if it would be possible for them to stop off on their way to find lunch so he could pick up some the fancy lace they sold in the marketplace for Mama Giambetti. Once they were gone though, Elizabeth was able to sit back on a bench, breathe in the salty sea air, and let her body unwind to the sound of Jason's voice as he quietly talked to Michael. He told him about the history of El Morro and explained why and how it was built. His words were soothing to her, the meaning behind them interesting for she was always curious about new things, and his and his son's presence was just the thing she needed to forget her discomfort from her sunburn and enjoy the afternoon. There was no one else she would rather be there with, but she reused to analyze why that was so.

He wasn't sure what it was that helped her relax on their flight home, but he was thankful that she was not restless and on edge like their flight to the island. After a week in the Caribbean paradise, the six New Yorkers were returning to their little upstate hamlet to face the mud, the uncertain weather, the rain showers, and the struggling spring flowers that would accompany the late March and early April days awaiting them. Although he would miss the worry free atmosphere of the resort hotel, Jason was ready to return home, ready to, once again, go back to life with just the three of them: himself, Michael, and Elizabeth. He enjoyed spending time with his top three guards, was thankful that they not only loved his son but seemed to look at his son's nanny like she was their little sister, but they were also constantly doing, saying, or thinking something, often in the process of getting themselves in trouble, and making him question both himself and what he was feeling.

The morning after he spent the evening alone with Elizabeth, she had woken up apparently unable to remember the fact that she had kissed him. Granted, it had been an innocent embrace on the cheek, but he had felt so close to her that night, and, upon discovering her lack of memory, Jason was unsure of how he wanted to react. While her inability to recall the kiss could have been explained by the fact that she was exhausted and slightly buzzed from her wine coolers and obvious status as a lightweight drinker, he feared she had purposely ignored the moment either out of embarrassment or regret, and, what even puzzled him more was the fact that he felt neither reaction towards her display of affection…even if it was simply one of friendship.

From that night on, their interaction had been warm, open, and companionable, just like it was at home in Port Charles. They would talk, take care of Michael together, discuss the sites they toured, and share their meals in tranquility. In the same breath, nothing was different between them yet everything had changed. Jason found himself watching her closely, observing her, noticing the little things about the woman he lived with that he hadn't before. He had known since the day he met her that she chewed her bottom lip when anxious, but, by viewing her carefully, he had learned how to discern what he various nibbles meant. When she was scared or insecure, she would wound the center of her lip, her actions fierce and painful, but, when she was nervous or timid out of excitement, she would nip at the corner of her plush bottom lip. However, if she was in pain, it was a constant mauling of the delicate edge of her mouth, sometimes even causing it to bleed. He had also started to recognize the signs that she displayed that let the world know when she liked or disliked something, when she wanted something or would rather be left alone. Perhaps it was because of his observations that he had been able to put her at ease while they were on the plane returning home.

Because Jason had realized his voice seemed to calm her when he discussed tourist attractions, he had offered to read out loud from a travel book on Italy while they were taking off. Michael also seemed to help ease the tension in his nanny, so, once it was safe for them to remove their seatbelts, he let her hold the little boy in her arms while he slept. Without the guards realizing it, he had placed fresh flowers and scented candles which would create an ambiance like the veranda outside their hotel suite in the plane. Within forty-five minutes after take off, Elizabeth had fallen into a deep sleep, his son cradled protectively against her chest, their breaths in unison. The sight of them alone was enough to lull him into a sense of security and peace, allowing him to let his guard down.

Max and Johnny had decided to play poker for cigars, but, because they had to be quiet so as not to wake Michael or Elizabeth, they were seated in the back of the plane, in the bedroom portion after making both Jason and Francis promise no word of them stepping foot into the plane's bedroom together ever got revealed to anyone else in the organization. Once they had gotten rid of the two trouble makers, Francis had settled down to quietly listen to music, the headphones he wore masking the sound from the rest of the occupants, practically leaving Jason alone with the sleeping pair on the couch.

Before they had left for the airport and while everyone else was packing, he had snuck out of the hotel suite and went down to the marketplace to pick up one last souvenir. Unlike the others he had purchased, gifts for his sister and grandmother, the last artifact was for Elizabeth. Standing up, he moved to her side, gently slipping the wooden figurine into her hand. It wasn't until he sat down that he noticed Francis had been watching his actions closely.

"It's a santo," he hastily explained, motioning towards the wooden craft. "I saw her looking at them a couple of days ago, and, even though she wanted one, she refused to spend the money. I thought she should have one."

"She'll love it," the older guard reassured his boss. "You did good, Jason."

His words were simple, to the point, and the epitome of Francis, but they reassured the younger man anyway, and, for some reason he couldn't name and perhaps didn't want to think about, the encouragement was important to him, calming, and, most surprising of all, needed. Jason only hoped that the simple gift would prove to provide Elizabeth with those same feelings of comfort and hope. Their vacation was over, and, no matter how peaceful the future appeared, something always happened, something always encroached upon happiness in Port Charles, and it was only a matter of time before his young nanny, his friend would need the support and faith they would be able to provide for her….the support and faith he would be able to, hopefully, give her.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

As soon as Jason rounded the corner of the small hallway outside of his penthouse, he instantly knew that something was different. It wasn't an ominous feeling or even one to make him take pause and observe his surroundings, but, surprising him, it did make him intrigued. Johnny's expression did nothing to curb his curiosity either.

The guard seemed lost in thought, perplexed, and unusually quiet, and, while the latter change in his personality was a welcome one for Jason, the first two were cause enough to make him pause. Not only were they unsavory traits for a bodyguard to display, but they also cemented Jason's growing sense that something peculiar was happening inside of his home. In fact, the Irish man was so consumed with his own ideas and questions, he never heard his boss approaching. Whatever was afoot needed to be stopped immediately or else the lax guard could put all of their lives in danger.

"What's so interesting about my door, O'Brien," Jason asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest and glowering at the lankier man in front of him. "I never knew you to be a person to stare at a wall as if it held the secrets of the universe before."

"What else do you think I do all day out here besides stare at your door?" When the small joke did nothing to abate the frown lines and flecks of anger coloring his boss' blue eyes steel grey, Johnny changed his tone, sobering it, and attempted to answer his employer's question. "There have been strange sounds coming from the penthouse…and strange smells."

"Did you check on them, at least ask Elizabeth if she and Michael were okay?"

"Yeah, of course I did," the bodyguard answered easily. "She said they were fine, that I wasn't allowed to come in, because I'd just make fun of her and she'd have to kick my ass which would cut into her prep time, and then, when I tried to ask her another question, I heard her turn the lock. That was two hours ago, and, since then, I've just steadily continued to become even more confused."

"You said something about a strange smell," Jason pushed him for more information. "Was it paint fumes?"

"No, that's what's weird about it. I'm used to the smells of her paint, her turpentine and paint thinner. This smelled like food."

Shrugging, the blonde haired man dismissed his employee's concerns. "So, she must have been baking brownies again. You know she does that every few weeks or so."

"Nope," Johnny argued, "what I smelled was not the scent of brownies. I can tell when Webber's baking, and, even if she was, why make a big deal out of it and lock me outside of the penthouse? Hell, half the time she asks me to stir the batter for her, because it gets too thick and, after a while, makes her arms sore. No," he continued, starting to pace the length between the two walls, "this was definitely something else."

"She probably just burnt the brownies. You know how Elizabeth can get distracted," Jason reminded his guard, "and, if she burnt them, that would explain why she wouldn't let you inside. She was embarrassed."

"It takes more than a crispy fried batch of brownies to embarrass that girl," Johnny snickered, shaking his head in amusement. Turning to face his boss, he shrugged. "For arguments sake, let's say she was making brownies. That still doesn't explain the weird sounds I heard earlier or," he added upon further thought, "the numerous shopping bags I saw Frannie carry in for her this afternoon. Now that I think about it, he was acting weird, too, all superior and smug, like he knew something I didn't."

"Francis knows a lot that you don't know, Jason muttered quietly."

"I heard that," the Irish man directed a glare at the blue eyed man standing beside him. "And, answer me this, Morgan: since when did you start mumbling under your breath? It seems you living with Elizabeth has made you pick up some her more annoying, female habits."

"O'Brien."

"Yeah, boss?"

"First of all," Jason directed, pointing a finger into the bodyguard's face, "shut up, and, secondly, move the hell out of my way so I can go inside."

"You're going in there," Johnny questioned, shocked, "without knowing what's going on first, without checking to make sure that Webber's not going to throw a fit and scream and yell about her privacy being violated?"

"This is my penthouse, too, in case you've forgotten," the man in charge stated, annoyed. "As for Elizabeth having a fit, she's an adult. She leaves the tantrums to Michael….and you."

Unlocking the door, Jason pushed his way into his home, dropped his keys onto the desk, and then looked up, unaware that his guard had tentatively followed him inside. Instead, he was too consumed with looking at the penthouse, the spotless, perfectly polished, not a speck of dust on any surface high or low penthouse. Gone were Michael's toys, Elizabeth's usual disorderly mess of schoolwork and sketching supplies and, replacing it, was complete order and cleanliness. A year before, Jason would have welcomed such an uncomplicated, uncluttered sight, but, as he looked around his home, he was surprised to find out that he missed the mess his son and his nanny usually left behind. She had only been a part of their lives for less than four months, but he liked the chaos she brought to his life, he liked the disarray she brought to his home, and he simply just liked her.

"Whoa," Johnny breathed out with a whistle, "this is freaky. I knew those bags Frannie carried in were heavy, because he was leaning slightly to the right while he walked, but I just assumed he had been slacking at the gym. Now I know."

"Now you know what?"

"Either Webber snuck Alice into the penthouse in one of her bags or she's nesting. My older sister drove her husband crazy last year when she was nesting. The man couldn't even step inside the house without taking his shoes off outside first. Trust me, she was quite the pain in the ass to live with, so you better hope Webber's not going through the same thing."

Frustrated and confused, Jason turned towards his employee, "who the hell is Alice, and what the hell are you talking about, O'Brien? Nesting…as in birds?"

From behind them, Elizabeth's voice carried down the stairs. "He's talking about Alice from The Brady Bunch. Geez, Morgan, we need to brush up on your pop culture reference. Remind me never to be on your team if we play board games with. As for you, Lurch, just became I normally live in a state of constant confusion does not mean that I don't know how to clean."

"If she's in a dress with heals and pearls, I'll know that this is either one very scary dream, the result of a concussion after getting hit on the head one too many times, or the side effects of some very potent hallucinogenic drugs." Peering over his shoulder, the Irish man spotted his younger charge, noticed that she was dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a light sweater, and smiled at her. "Well it's good to see that you haven't morphed into June Cleaver since I saw you last."

Puzzled again, Jason asked, "who's June Cleaver."

"Don't worry about it," Elizabeth reassured him. "I'll explain later. However, you, O'Brien, have overstayed your welcome." Opening the door, she motioned for him to, once again, take his post outside of the door. "Didn't I tell you that you weren't supposed to bother me tonight? Go," she urged him to leave, "get out of here. It's back to looking stupid for you. Oh, wait, you always look stupid whether you're staring at the door or trying to hold a conversation."

"Well, maybe if the company was a little more inspiring," the guard returned, teasing her. However, she just glared at him. "You, frighteningly, just resembled Jason a little bit there," he quipped while she glowered. "Fine, I'm going, I'm going. Just know, until I get some answers about what exactly you were up today, Webber, I'm going to make up the most humiliating explanations I can think of and spread them throughout the guards."

"Do whatever you have to, Lurch," she stated without a care, pushing him out the door the entire time, "but just remember what they say about paybacks," she taunted. "Sleep tight," the door slammed shut, silencing the protesting guard, "with the fishes," Elizabeth finished under her breath, mumbling. Turning back around to face the living room, Jason was watching her closely, his eyes, filled with questions, following her every nervous movement. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ears, she smiled up at him hesitantly. "Hi."

"Hello."

Timidly, she chewed on her bottom lip. "You're probably wondering what that was all about," the tense brunette stated unable to meet her employer's eye and motioning behind her towards the door that was hiding Johnny from their sight.

"Not really," Jason returned easily. "After almost four months, I'm used to you and O'Brien never making much sense."

She hadn't expected that answer. "So, you're not curious about what I've been up to all evening?"

"No," he corrected her, "I'm curious, but I'm not going to ask you any questions. What you do with your free time is none of my business. As long as Michael's taken care of, you can come and go and do as you please. Plus, I know that, if you want to tell me something, you will."

"Oh."

At the tone of her voice, disappointed and withdrawn, Jason wondered if he had said or done something wrong. "Why, did you want me to interrogate you?"

"Of course not," Elizabeth dismissed, laughing slightly though the humor never quite made it to her eyes. "No one wants to be interrogated, but I figured you'd at least be interested enough to ask a few questions." When he simply watched her, waiting for her to say more, she sighed in exasperation. "Fine! It would make things a lot easier for me if you'd ask some questions….you know, to get the conversation going."

"I can do that," he assured her. "Who's June Cleaver?"

"Jason," she chuckled. This time, he noticed, her eyes sparkled with mirth, and her face lit up with genuine amusement. "That has nothing to do with anything. That," she searched for the right thing to say, "was just Johnny being a pain in my ass."

"He's always a pain in your ass."

"Good point," she agreed with him, "but that still doesn't get us anywhere. Ask another question."

"Alright, O'Brien said something about a strange noise…."

"Oh, that was the vacuum cleaner." Motioning towards the pristine penthouse, she continued, "but I think it's obvious what that was used for."

"Elizabeth, you don't have to clean this place. I don't expect that of you."

"I know that," she reassured him, "but I wanted to. You're always cleaning up after me and Michael, but I'm an adult, too, and I should help around here more. Besides," she added, blushing, "I wanted to do something nice for you."

"You're not the maid," Jason continued to argue with her, "and, if the place was getting too messy for you, I could bring in some hired help to clean for us."

"Morgan," she snapped, "you're missing the point. There's no need to hire a cleaning lady. It was just supposed to be a friendly gesture…along with a few other things." As he raised his eyebrows in question, he led him over to the couch and motioned for him to sit down. "I'll explain." Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth pushed on. "Okay, so, since I moved in here, you've been great to me, and I realized that you always let me decide what we're going to do, what we're going to eat, even when you're going to get a chance to relax, but not tonight. There's dinner in the kitchen, nothing girly or overly fancy. Francis told me that you like steak, and he showed me how to make it, so I think it's at least edible. Plus, there's fresh beer in the fridge, too. I also went out and bought you some new travel books. I noticed that ones you have are looking a little tattered which means you've probably read them each at least half a dozen times. But then I thought 'what if he's not in the mood to read tonight,' so I went to rent you some movies. However, when I got there, I remember that you really don't like TV, so why would movies be any different, right? As I was leaving though, I saw the documentary section, so I checked it out. You'll never believe all the different topics people have made documentaries on. I think I even saw one on growing grass. Don't worry, I didn't rent you that one, but I did find several that I think you may like. I grabbed a couple travel films, some on world history, some on wildlife, and even some about the environment. Plus, and I personally think this one is the coolest, I found a documentary all about the history of motorcycles. So," she finished, standing up and moving towards the stairs, "I'm just going to go up to my room and leave you alone to do…whatever you want. Goodnight, Jason."

Just as she placed her foot on the first riser, his hand gently grasped her arm and held her back. "Not so fast." When she didn't say or do anything, he moved his grip to her shoulder and spun her around to face him. "Not that I don't appreciate everything you've done for me, because I do and it's obvious you put a lot of thought into it," Jason started, watching her face closely, "but there's something else, another reason why you did all this for me. I can see that you're holding something back."

"Look, it's no big deal," she attempted to dismiss his concerns, but he wouldn't let her. Instead, he simply stood there and waited for her to say more. "Fine, yes, there was something else, but I changed my mind, so just eat your dinner and enjoy the peace and quiet, especially since you don't get it around here very often anymore since I arrived."

"Elizabeth…."

"Look, it's no big deal," she waved off his protests.

"Don't do that," Jason beseeched her, "not with me. You never have to be afraid to ask me anything."

"I know that, I do," she promised him. "I just don't want to make this about me. I was going to ask you for a favor, but it's unnecessary, and I decided I just want to do something nice for you, no strings attached."

Letting go of her shoulder, he climbed up one step so that they were standing in front of each other and she had to look up at him as they talked. "What was the favor?"

"Jason…."

"No, humor me," he asked. "Like you said, I'm supposed to be doing whatever I want to tonight, so, if I decide that I want to help you, then that's my decision. So," he pressed, "what did you need?"

"Okay," Elizabeth relented, taking a deep breath and calming herself before continuing. "For one of my finals, I have to paint a picture that exemplifies true love, except it can't be something cliché like a couple dancing at their wedding or a man proposing to a woman; it has to be original. So, I started thinking about the honest, real, loving relationships I know of, and the connection I find the most beautiful is the one I see between you and Michael." Before he could protest or say anything, she pressed on. "Don't worry, I wouldn't be painting either of your faces if you agree to help me. Remember, it can't be a common image. Instead, I was hoping you'd let me paint your hands while you're holding Michael and reading to him." Chewing on her lip, she gazed up at him. "What do you think?"

"I think that I'm going to go and eat that steak before it gets cold and before Michael wakes up for his last bottle of the night. Then, after I feed him, we'll check out one of those new travel books you picked up for me, and, while I read to him, you can do whatever you have to so that you can make this painting."

"Seriously?"

"Elizabeth, you know I never say anything I don't mean," he lightheartedly chided her. "Next time, though, when you need something, just ask me. You don't have to run yourself ragged cleaning the penthouse or spend your money on me."

"It's okay," she dismissed his concerns, "I like doing things for you. You help everyone else, so it's only right that someone does something nice for you every once in a while."

Smiling at him one last time, she went to run up the stairs, but he called out for her again. "Elizabeth…." As she looked back down upon him, he returned her smile. "Thanks…for everything."

Suddenly serious, she watched him for a moment before saying anything. "You're welcome, Jason." Before he could respond again, she was up the stairs and in her room, locked away from his eyes and unable to hear anything else he may have wanted to say.

Elizabeth had no idea how late it was or how long she had been sketching, but she was used to her habit of losing herself in her artwork. It seemed that whenever she was working on a subject that fascinated her or a project she was passionate about, time suddenly lost its relevancy, and she became a slave to her painting and not one to the clock. Setting down her sketch pad, she stretched her aching back, silently yelling at herself for thinking an ottoman with no spinal support was a good place to sit and work.

The penthouse was dim, only the lamp she had been using to cast light and shadow unto Jason's hands illuminating the room, and the world was silent, asleep and dreaming, while she yawned and fussed over the finishing touches of her sketch. Because she knew it would take days and perhaps even weeks to perfect the painting she had been assigned for class, Elizabeth had insisted that Jason only sit long enough for her to sketch his hands. She would then take the drawings she had made in pencil and use them to create her final piece, probably, she mused to herself, in watercolors. With one last glance at the rough draft, she was satisfied with the sketch and closed the notebook, finally looking up to meet Jason's gaze. Instead, she found him sound asleep, the book he had been reading from sitting forgotten in his left hand while his right cradled Michael to his broad chest.

"Wimps," she murmured, teasing them both affectionately. Reaching down, she gently disentangled the baby boy from his Father's arms, moving him to rest against her chest while he slept on, never once even stirring. Carrying him up to bed, Elizabeth tucked Michael in before dropping a delicate kiss against his brow and standing up straight. "Good night," she cooed, caressing the infant's face with the softest touch. Leaving his crib side, she moved across her room to her closet, opening it only to feel around in the dark until she came across what she was looking for: an extra blanket. Soundlessly, she crept back out of the room, down the stairs, and stood in front of Jason who she thought to still be fast asleep on the couch. Unfolding the blanket, she tucked it around him, taking her time to make sure he would be comfortable, but, even after she was finished she didn't leave him alone.

"Oh, what the hell," she mumbled under her breath to herself. "Doing something twice does not make it a habit." With that, she let her mouth drop to her employer's cheek, lightly dancing just a whisper of a kiss against the tan, strong curve of his face her lips had memorized the night in Puerto Rice when she had first given in to her desire to express how she felt for the man who had given her life so much meaning, so much fullness, so much happiness. Standing up, she let her fingers trace from his cheek bone to his jaw, a ghost of an embrace, as she softly told him, "thank you," before slipping back up the stairs to go to bed, firmly believing Jason had been asleep the entire time and missing the moment when his eyes flashed open in conscious comprehension only to follow her as she disappeared from his sight.

Elizabeth, Michael in his carrying seat on the chair beside her, and the three guards she was the closest to, Johnny, Francis, and Max, all sat around a small table at Kelly's, battling for elbow room as they ate lunch together. Usually, it was just Elizabeth, Michael, and Francis, but, occasionally, Johnny would join them either when security was increased or when Jason could find nothing better to keep him occupied, and Max only made it whenever their boss was out of town on business.

"This is one of my favorites," Elizabeth laughed as she handed the picture to Francis who was sitting on her left hand side. Their food had been forgotten, for they were all more interested in looking at the photographs from their trip she had just gotten developed. "I'll never forget the look on your face, Max," she teased the bulky bodyguard, "when that crab latched onto your chest and wouldn't let go."

"It wasn't just my chest," he grumbled, wincing at the memory. "The little bastard pinched my nipple."

"Well, if you wouldn't have man boobs," Johnny pointed out, ducking his head when the youngest guard tossed a french fry in his direction.

"Or maybe," the Italian turned his glare upon Elizabeth, "if someone wouldn't have put the crab on my chest in the first place…"

"Hey, don't blame me," she excused her own actions. "I was just following orders."

"Orders," Max snorted. "So, which one of these bozos told you to do that to me," he asked, motioning towards his two friends who were sitting on either side of him.

"Neither," Elizabeth replied with a sweet smile. "It was Jason's idea."

"Seriously," Francis laughed, shaking his head at the idea of their boss initiating a prank. "Who would have thought he had it in him?"

"What," Johnny quipped, winking, "to have fun? Morgan has fun all the time with Webber here. You should hear some of the noises that float through the door at night."

While the other guards snickered, Elizabeth turned to the doorman and glared. "Too bad Johnny has to use his imagination to figure out what they are," she taunted, "because we all know the only lady he's ever spent time with is his mother."

"Hey, what about all those girls I…entertained in Puerto Rico."

"She said ladies," O'Brien," Francis reminded his friend, using his straw to point at the younger guard. "The women you tangoed with while we were on vacation were anything but ladylike."

"As that prescription of penicillin you're still on can attest to," Max added in, earning himself a punch in the shoulder from the displeased Irish man sitting beside him.

"Well, isn't this a cozy scene," a masculine voice taunted them from behind Elizabeth. "Anger Boy's whole entourage decided to put the lives of regular, innocent Port Charles citizens at risk just so they could have lunch in a restaurant."

Before any of the guards could do or say anything, she turned around in her seat and glared at the man before her. "Look, I don't know who the hell you think you are," Elizabeth seethed, "but in polite society it is not acceptable to insult a man and then proceed to discuss him like he wasn't sitting right before you." Tossing her napkin onto the table, she stood up. "I know Max might not have the most pleasant personality, but he's a person just like you and me, and he has feelings, too, so I would appreciate it if you'd never call him Anger Boy again."

Snickering, the cocky intruder crossed his arms in front of his chest and sized her up. "So, this is Morgan's new mob moll. Let me give you a little advice," he continued, seemingly unfazed by the fact that the three guards and stood up to surround Elizabeth in a sign of support. "Quit your job, stay away from Morgan, and find yourself some better friends before these criminals get you killed, and, just so the record's straight, when I say Anger Boy, I'm not talking about Giambetti here," he motioned towards the largest of the three men standing beside her. "I'm talking about your boyfriend: Morgan."

Undeterred by his manner and tone, Elizabeth narrowed her gaze upon him, balled her small hands into tight fists, and whispered, her lowered voice carrying more contempt than someone else's angry screams would have. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Lieutenant Taggart," the cop answered her, flashing his badge with a pleased smirk.

"Oh," she drawled out in recognition, offering him a wide, warm smile. "So, you're the moron in the police department who couldn't make an arrest stick even if the evidence and the perp were delivered to you with a bow on top. I read about you in the newspaper. There was an interesting editorial published a few months ago that suggested the mayor demand your immediate resignation. Unfortunately, I guess the politicians are just as crooked as the law enforcement in this town."

"Listen, little girl," the older man leaned down in an effort to intimidate her, "do not fall for the line of bull Morgan and his minions have been feeding you. They're only going to get you arrested, hurt, or, more likely, killed. You see, while they seem to have nine lives, the innocent people they keep around them pay the price for their crimes."

"You mean how the good people of Port Charles literally pay for your crimes with their hard earned tax dollars," she returned, unfazed by his warning. Before he could respond, she snapped her fingers in front of his face to make sure he remained quiet. "I wasn't finished yet," she continued, blindly reaching for her coat and purse. "Stay away from me and stay away from Michael. Do you understand, Q-tip? Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm afraid the migraine I got from the light reflecting off your head has ruined my appetite….or maybe it was just your company. Whatever the reason, we're leaving." Picking up Michael's carrying seat, she pushed past the detective without another glance, muttering a cold, "excuse me," before shouldering past him and avoiding any contact. Knowing the guards were behind her, Elizabeth walked out of the small, family diner with her head held high, barely managing to restrain her ire. However, no matter how mad she was, she wouldn't let her emotions hurt Michael. He was her first priority, first, last, and always.

"Everything quiet," Jason asked later that night when he returned to the penthouse. He had been out of town on business for two days and was looking forward to being home, to spending time with the little boy he considered his son, and to seeing Elizabeth.

"Yeah," Johnny answered him, stifling a yawn, "a little too quiet if you ask me."

The guard's response stopped his boss from continuing into the penthouse. Turning around, he regarded the Irish man closely. "What do you mean too quiet?"

"Exactly what I said," the doorman reiterated. "Ever since our little run in with Taggart this afternoon, Webber's been quiet, barely talking, walking around the place like she was lost in thought, constantly chewing on her lip, and refusing to meet my eye."

"Wait a minute. Go back for me. Ever since your little run in Taggart? What run in?"

"He came up to us at Kelly's," Johnny answered, "and he started in with his usual line about how you're dangerous, how you hurt the people around you, and he told Webber that she'd end up dead if she kept working for you." He finished his explanation with a chuckle.

"What's so funny about that, O'Brien?"

"Well, you should have seen Webber," the guard smirked, "she dished back to old baldie as fast as he could deliver, and, let me tell you, she won that battle."

"Great," Jason sighed, "now he'll just keep harassing her."

"Don't worry about her," the Irish man reassured his employer, "she can handle herself. The best part though was when she thought Taggart was referring to Max when he called us Anger Boy's entourage. You should have seen Giambetti's face."

"Tell me more about what happened after you returned to the penthouse."

"Nothing really," Johnny shrugged unsure of what he was supposed to say, "but that's what's so weird about it. You know Webber, she's always a bundle of energy, having me help her with some project or another, but she barely said two words to me all afternoon. Then, this evening when I went inside to check in with her, she was already dressed for bed and getting ready to put Michael down. She's been asleep for hours."

Taking a moment to think, Jason furrowed his brow and watched the door to the penthouse as if it would suddenly open up and reveal the answers to his questions. Finally, unable to think of anything, he turned back to the guard. "What do you think's going on with her?"

"At first, I just figured it was some woman thing, like her monthly trip to China," without noticing his boss' confusion, he went on. "But she's not moody or emotional; she's just…quiet and really apprehensive about something. Maybe Taggart did get to her. Maybe she's worried and thinking about quitting."

"You think," the blonde haired man asked doubtfully.

"Well, it's the only thing that I can come up with that makes any sense," Johnny answered. "Whatever it is, Webber will talk to you about it," he reassured his boss. "Don't sweat it."

"Easy for you to say," Jason countered. "She's not your kid's nanny."

"No," the guard agreed with him, "but she is my friend, and I would miss her spunk around her, not to mention the fact that you're easier to be around when she's making you behave."

"Watch it, O'Brien," he threatened, pushing open the door and walking into the penthouse. Too bad they both knew there was no real threat behind his words.

"Anyway, I'm heading out, going home for the night," the Irish man motioned towards the elevator. "I'll send Marco up on my way out."

With a simple wave of his hand, Jason said goodbye to his employee, dejectedly moving towards the stairs that would take him to his room. Instead of the familiar welcome home he had been expecting, he had been greeted by a dark and silent penthouse, a sleeping Michael, and worries concerning Elizabeth. Scrubbing a rough hand over his face, the two-day stubble rasping against his palm, he made his way towards his bed, flipping on the lamp sitting on his night table, and quickly stripping off his shoes, socks, t-shirt, and pants before moving to turn down the blankets. However, there was something there that caught him off guard, halting his actions.

A large piece of paper, thick, creamy, vanilla sketch paper was placed against his pillow, its back facing him so he couldn't see what it was. Lying on the bed beside the large sheet of paper was a note, simply addressed to him in Elizabeth's feminine hand.

_Jason,_

_I didn't know if you would want this or not, but, besides my professor, I felt it was too personal for anyone else to see. Your love for Michael is too precious, too beautiful to share with the rest of the world. No matter what happens in the future, even if I become the famed artist I dream of being, this is one piece I would never sell, no matter what the offered price. Frame it, hide it away in a drawer, throw it away if you want, but, whatever you decide to do with it, I wanted it to be yours. Thanks again for letting me sketch you._

_Elizabeth_

Carefully, he set the note aside in the drawer of his nightstand before looking back at the sheet of paper resting against his pillow. Gently, as if he was afraid he'd taint or destroy the drawing, he turned the sketch over. It was the piece Elizabeth had done of his hands while he read to Michael. Though he couldn't quite understand the abstract quality to the picture, he knew what it symbolized, because she had told him: the love he felt for his son. Picking it up, he carried it to his dresser, placing it in the center where nothing could touch it until he figured out where he would put it, where he would put _his_ picture from Elizabeth. No matter what she thought, he would never hide it away or destroy it. Instead, it would be something he would keep close to him at all the times, something he would value and appreciate for as long as he lived. No one had ever given him something so important, something so personal, and the feelings he got knowing that Elizabeth had cared enough about him to give him the sketch meant more than all the other gifts he had ever received before combined. The only problem was he had no idea how to thank her for it or show her how much it meant to him. With that to ponder, he went to bed, and, for the first time since he took over the territory, business was the furthest thing from his mind.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Johnny O'Brien was in a good mood. The sun was shining down on their little riverside city, spring appeared to have returned for good, and he was about to get the opportunity to do one of his favorite things: gossip about his employer's personal life. Instead of the showers of March bringing flowers that April, it appeared as if the stormy weather of the previous month had ushered in romance. All one had to do was stand quietly and observe the two adults who resided in the penthouse, and it became obvious that something had changed in their relationship. While they seemed oblivious to the differences, he was well aware of the transformation between Elizabeth and Jason. There were more lingering looks, soft smiles, and gentle words. He worked even less, delegating some of his menial tasks to the men below him just so that he could spend more time at home, and she seemed to distance herself even more from the social environment at school. Why just the day before, Francis admitted that his charge never seemed to look at other men and that she even gave off an unavailable vibe. Hell, Max, too, had noticed the changes. So, the three of them had decided to discuss their boss and his relationship with his young nanny that morning over donuts and coffee while they waited for their morning shifts to begin.

Bringing him out of his revelry, the soft peal of the elevator bell alerted the Irish man to the fact that his two coworkers had arrived. While the older of the two men carried the three cups of coffee in a serving container, the hefty Italian guard delicately cradled a bag of pastries in his work worn, large hands. "You're not worshipping a woman's body there, Giambetti," Johnny teased his friend. "They're just donuts."

"But they're not," the youngest of the bodyguards argued. "I decided to pick us up something different this morning, figured we should expand our horizons."

Warily, Francis asked, "what did you get, and, if I can't pronounce it, you're a dead man."

"Don't get your tighty-whities in a bunch, Donovan. They're just scones."

"Great," the blonde haired man grumbled, "now he thinks he's the fucking queen of England."

"Well," Johnny taunted, "he does kind of resemble her majesty."

"Laugh all you want, but if I'm the queen, that means you two morons would be my subjects which means you'd have to do what I say."

"This is ridiculous," the Irish guard stated, snatching the bag of baked goods from his younger friend and pulling out a scone. After regarding it for several seconds, a sneer of distaste on his face the entire time, he simply tossed the pastry back in the bag and put it aside, deciding on his own that if he wasn't going to eat it then no one was. "We're not here to discuss your many feminine tendencies, Giambetti; we're here to compare notes about the real queen of the castle."

"She does seem to rule the roost these days, doesn't she," Francis commented with a chuckle. "I swear, one smile from Elizabeth and Morgan will do just about anything."

"I find it sweet," Max added, smiling wistfully.

"You would," the brunette of the group quipped, rolling his eyes, "but, at this point, I couldn't give two shits about what you or anyone else thinks about the situation. I want to know." Motioning the other two men closer to the door, he lowered his voice before continuing. "If you're quiet, you can hear snippets of their conversation in the morning."

"Have you heard anything so far today," Francis wanted to know.

"Yeah, I know that you're going to be going to the mall with Webber and the kid. Have fun visiting the Easter Bunny, Frannie."

"Shit!"

"What about me," Max asked. "The boss called me this morning and told me to meet him here, but he didn't say where we were going or what we would be doing."

"Not sure," Johnny answered. "All I know is that Webber insisted that Jason eat this morning, despite all his protests that he doesn't eat breakfast, so that he wouldn't run out of energy."

"Maybe she has plans for him when he gets home tonight," the blonde guard suggested with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Nah, they're not sleeping together….at least not yet," the largest of the three men stated unequivocally.

"How the hell do you know?"

"Face it, O'Brien, Morgan might be in a better mood than we've ever seen him before, but he's not that happy. Plus," the Italian added with a casual, knowing shrug of his shoulders, "he doesn't have the sex walk."

"Like you would know what that looks like," Francis taunted, earning himself a punch in the arm. He simply laughed at his younger friend.

"Can we please get back to the topic at hand," Johnny pleaded, annoyed with the other two men's antics. "By the way Webber was talking, I think the two of you, Max, will be putting in some time at the coffee warehouse."

"Damn it," the black haired guard groused, "Morgan's going to have me dragging bags of coffee around all fucking day."

"While I get to stay here and boil eggs," the Irish man goaded his friends. "Sucks to be the two of you now, doesn't it?"

"Jesus Christ, how the hell do you get all the easy jobs?"

"Face it, Donovan," Johnny answered, "Webber just likes me the best. Why the other day…."

Suddenly he fell quiet and signaled for the other guards to stay silent as well. Before they could ask why, Elizabeth's voice carried through the thick, closed door.

"_Jason, have you seen my lilac, lace camisole? I wanted to wear it under my sweater today."_

"_Lilac?"_

"_Light purple," she laughed. Teasing him, she continued, "you're such a guy."_

"_I think it's in the dryer," he told her. "I switched the loads last night when I washed some towels."_

"_Oh, thanks," Elizabeth returned before her retreating steps could be heard as she left to retrieve her shirt._

"Holy shit," Max exclaimed, "he's doing her laundry now? That's pretty friendly if you know what I'm saying, especially considering they can discuss her intimates without embarrassment."

"It's just a tank top, Giambetti," the eldest of the three guards turned to mock his friend. "It makes sense that they would help each other with the laundry considering the fact that they live together, and it's not like they were discussing her leather thong and riding crop."

"You've got to be kidding me," the Irish man chuckled in pleasant surprise. "Who knew Webber was so naughty."

"It was just an exaggerated example, O'Brien, you know, to make a point. I have no idea what kind of underwear Elizabeth wears nor do I want to know."

"I bet Jason knows," the largest of the three men pointed out with a wicked, smug grin. "Maybe we should ask him as a sort of test."

"I prefer not having to eat through a feeding tube, but, if you feel so inclined, go for it," Francis suggested slyly. "And don't worry, Johnny Boy and I will visit you in the rehabilitation hospital….that is if you're not six feet under in an unmarked grave out in the middle of nowhere."

"Okay," the bulky guard rationalized, "so a conversation with the boss about his nanny's lingerie might not be the best idea I've ever had."

"Ya think," Johnny mocked. "I swear, Giambetti, you say some of the dumbest shit I've…."

"_Found it," Elizabeth's voice, once again, caught their attention and stopped the guards mid-way through their conversation. Her soft footsteps told them that she had reentered the great room where they assumed Jason still was. _

"_Are you busy tonight," they heard him ask her. "I mean, do you have any plans?"_

"_Just some finishing touches on Michael's nursery – I think he'll be able to move back in next week."_

"_Well, what do you say about a ride? It's supposed to be a warm night, and you haven't gotten to see Vista Point without snow yet?"_

"_That sounds amazing," she gushed. The guards could practically hear the smile in her voice. "But what about Michael?"_

"_Johnny can watch him for a few hours tonight," Jason answered quickly. "He's been getting the easy assignments the last couple of weeks anyway. I think he owes us some babysitting, and, while he's here, he can work on Michael's room if you want him to. I'm sure he won't mind."_

"_Oh, good," she squealed happily. "I was going to move furniture anyway, and it'll be much easier for him. I'll see you tonight, Jason," Elizabeth called out as she rushed up the stairs to finish getting ready._

"Damn, I can't hear what he said in response," Max grumbled. As soon as the young nanny had disappeared up the stairs, their employer's voice had dropped so low they couldn't comprehend what he had said.

"So, what were you saying about being Webber's favorite there, Johnny," the blonde guard taunted his friend, laughing at the Irish man's frustrated expression with the knowledge that he would not only be pulling double duty that day, but he'd, once again, have to do Elizabeth's grunt work.

"Shut the fuck up, Donovan," the brunette returned, shoving the older man away from him. "Who the hell asked for your opinion anyway?"

"I do believe that was you. You did call this powwow this morning," Francis pointed out, earning himself another glare. However, before the disgruntled bodyguard could say anything in response, the door to the penthouse was whipped open, and the three of them were faced with the curious, slightly distrusting, and questioning glance of their employer.

"What the hell are you three up to?"

"Nothing, boss," Max spoke up, attempting to appear busy adjusting his suit. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," Jason's reply was short and terse. "But you can forget about that tie and jacket. You're not going to need them to unload the trucks down at the coffee warehouse today." Turning towards Francis, he continued issuing orders. "I want you to take an extra man with you today when you go to the mall with Elizabeth and Michael. I don't need you losing them in the crowds. And, as for you," he cast a glance at Johnny, "I've got good news for your sister. Looks like you're going to be getting some practice with diaper duty after all. Elizabeth and I are going out, and you're watching Michael for us."

"Yes, boss," the Italian guard agreed meekly. "And I'll work on the nursery for Webber, too, since she won't be home to do it on her own."

Jason's only reaction was "good," before motioning for Max to follow him and disappearing onto the elevator.

"Cheer up, O'Brien," Francis taunted his friend. "If this job doesn't work out for you, I'm sure Morgan would give you an excellent recommendation to be someone's nanny or butler."

As Johnny prepared for a long day of simply standing guard and boiling eggs in between security checks, the blonde's laughter could be heard echoing through the marble hallway. Suddenly his bright, cheerful, good mood had turned dark and cloudy.

"Your son is extremely well behaved," the man next to Elizabeth in line nodded towards Michael who was merely resting contently in her arms. "My daughter," he pointed towards the little girl sitting in the Easter Bunny's lap who appeared to be three or four and talking animatedly, "when she was his age, screamed the entire hour and forty-five minutes that we were in line."

"Well, Michael's a good baby," she responded, hesitant to say too much, "and it seems as if your daughter still has a penchant for making noise."

"Yeah, she is a chatterbox." When she made no effort to continue the conversation, he pressed, "how old is your son?"

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth apologized, turning to face the stranger, "but I really don't feel comfortable discussing my client's personal details with someone I don't know."

"Oh, so he's not yours," the man realized, smiling at her. "I had to say I thought that you looked too young to be someone's Mom. As for not knowing each other, I'd love to grab a cup of coffee with you later. My daughter and I could wait until you and Michael are finished getting his picture taken."

"Thanks but no thanks," she turned down his offer. "As soon as we're finished, we have to leave. I have a meeting later."

"Surely you have time for one little cup of coffee," the stranger continued to push. "Come on, you know you want to. I'm sure your boss, whoever he is, wouldn't mind you making a new friend while you're working.

At that moment, his daughter ran down to latch herself onto his leg, finished with the Easter Bunny, and alerting Elizabeth to the fact that it was their turn. "No, really," she emphasized, "I can't. If you'll excuse me," she nodded towards Francis and a new guard she had never met before, silently communicating with them that she wanted them to move closer, "I want to get Michael's picture taken now."

Just as the man went to say something else, Francis was at her side, taking Michael from her arms. "Finally," he teased with a carefree smile. "It's about time it was this little guy's turn. Stay with Elizabeth," he instructed the other guard, "while I take Michael up to meet the overfed Rabbit."

Unbuttoning his coat, he made it quite clear to the stranger that he was there in a professional manner, flashing his gun. Before he could even reach the display, the man had disappeared into the crowd, and he was left with another reassurance that Elizabeth was not interested in anyone other than their boss. True, the man had been slightly too persistent, but he had also been attractive, appeared successful, and was a family man, all admirable qualities, but she had never even glanced in his direction. Apparently, they had been right. Elizabeth really did only have eyes for Jason.

Elizabeth was nervous. She had insisted that Francis wait out in the car with Michael while she went in to talk to her professor, but, as she approached the door, hand raised to knock, she realized that she could really use his strong, silent support. Never before had the idea of her personal guard intimidating a teacher into submission sounded so enticing. It wasn't as if she didn't like her professor; on the contrary, Doctor Williams was probably her favorite amongst the staff, but she was tied up in knots and fidgeting endlessly at the thought of having to hear his review of her painting. Maybe if the image of Jason holding Michael while he read to put him to sleep wasn't as important to her, she wouldn't care as much, but she did cherish the image of her boss with his son, and getting a bad grade on the piece would crush her.

She had just turned the painting in a week before, and she knew that she was the first student Doctor Williams had planned to meet with. Being the first to be graded could mean one of two things: either she had really impressed her professor and he wanted to use her piece as the example of excellence, or, more than likely based upon her previous experience in school, she had completely failed the project and he was going to force her to redo it. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her hair down, tucked it behind her ears, and made sure that there was no baby formula stains showing on her clothes. Satisfied with her appearance, she finally knocked on the door and waited for it to be opened while saying a silent prayer to the muses.

"Elizabeth, you're early," the elderly gentleman greeted her, "just as I like to see. Please, come in." Ushering her into his office, he waited for her to take a seat before continuing. "I assume you know why I asked you to meet me here today?"

"You wanted to discuss my painting."

"Yes, I did," he agreed with a gentle smile. Sitting behind his desk, he nodded towards her project which was proudly displayed. "If you don't mind me asking, do you have a name for the piece?"

"I…well…I actually didn't even think about it."

"You should," he advised her. "That piece is gallery material, Miss Webber, and it deserves a name."

Swallowing thickly, she released some of the tension in her body. So far, so good. "I'll do that, sir."

"Good. Now, as I'm sure you're ready for, let's get down to business." The professor paused for a moment to pull out his notes. "If you can't tell by now, Elizabeth, I found this piece to be amazing. Hands down, this is your best piece to date, and, as such, it will be rewarded with an appropriate grade. My only disparaging mark against you is the fact that you never felt enough trust in me to share that you had a son."

"Excuse me," she gaped at him. "I….I don't know….I don't have a son."

"But the painting," he motioned, once again, to her piece of artwork. "I just….assumed." Realizing what he himself had said, Doctor Williams quickly apologized. "I'm sorry. A professor should never presume things about his students' lives, but, when I looked at this piece, it just seemed so honest, like it took a Mother's love to paint it."

"I'm a nanny," Elizabeth revealed. "I work for the father and son who inspired the piece."

"Well it's obvious that you care a great deal about both of them."

Confused and caught off guard, she stared at her professor. "Um…what…how?"

"Miss Webber, may I please speak candidly?" Nodding her head in consent, she sat back in her chair to listen carefully to what he had to say. "The reason this assignment is your final project is because most young artists don't realize that you can't express love visually unless you feel it as well. It doesn't matter how in love your subject is if you can't relate to the emotion. What you captured here is not only the unconditional love a parent feels for his child but also the love you feel towards the man and child who inspired your creativity. Many artists are very personal people; they have a hard time telling someone how they feel, but they can share it through their respective mediums. The painter paints a portrait of how full their heart is, the writer writes a sonnet or a beautiful novel of finding one's soul mate, and the musician composes a song to communicate his or her deepest sentiments to the world. Through our artwork, we make ourselves vulnerable; we impart our sincerest secrets, desires, and joys. Inside of their artwork is the only place an artist feels completely honest and forthcoming, comfortable with their own dreams and ideas, and, until we, as artists, realize this, our artwork will never reach its full potential. You, Miss Webber, whether it was intentional or not, have arrived at this point. In this painting, whatever it is entitled, you have shown the world your inner most emotions, you have shared a secret part of yourself with your audience, and that honesty, that trust you impart to them, that love you communicate through each and every one of your brush strokes is what makes this a true piece of exquisite art. If you can continue to be so sincere in everything you create from this point on, you will have a very successful career someday." Standing up, he held out a hand for her to shake. "I know we still have a few weeks of classes left, Elizabeth, but what I really want you to do is work on some more pieces like this one – show the world what truly resides in that generous and warm heart of yours. It's been my pleasure to work with you this semester, and I hope to have you in another class in the future." As she returned his gesture of friendship and salutation, shaking his hand, he offered her one last smile. "I take it I've given you quite a bit to think about, Miss Webber. I hope you take it to heart. Have a nice evening."

"You, too, sir," Elizabeth returned slightly in a daze. Without another word, she picked up her bag and proceeded to the door simply by sheer intuition, her body moving mechanically. She was so lost in self-reflection that she never heard her professor's mirthful peals of laughter as they floated through the hallway, following her as she left the building. Nerves had been replaced with astonishment, disbelief, and a dash of exhilaration.

They were at Vista Point, the silence a comfort and a curse to Elizabeth at the same time. It was quite the paradox. While on one hand she welcome the quiet in a vain hope that it would eradicate the haunting whispers left over from her conversation with her professor that afternoon, she knew that the stillness would only serve to make her dwell even more upon her thoughts. Although she could handle not being a peace, she could tell that Jason had something on his mind as well, and she was fearful that he could sense her sudden apprehension and nerves when it came to being with him. It wasn't intentional, but what Doctor Williams had said made sense to her; it spoke to a truth she knew already deep inside of her, the truth that told her like recognized like and that it would have been impossible for her to truly respect and honor the love Jason felt for Michael if she didn't feel the same thing. Frustrated, she closed her eyes and attempted to will away the ideas that would not give her a moment's rest, but they wouldn't leave, and closing her eyes only seemed to heighten her awareness to the fact that the man who was preoccupying her every waking moment was sitting so closely to her.

Giving in to her insane impulses to talk to Jason about what she was feeling, at least on an innocent surface level, she let out a discouraged sigh before finally breaking the silence which had seemed to exist between them since the moment she had returned from her meeting, a silence that had been there even when they had been talking about inconsequential things. "So that meeting I had today, it was with the professor I had to do the painting symbolizing love for."

"And," he prompted her. While his words did not express his desire to listen, his body language, turned to face her, and his eyes, open and curious, told her he really did want to hear what she had to say, that he was interested in what she was thinking and feeling.

"He loved it, said that it was the best piece I've ever created to date, and that if I keep working on the same level, I'll have a successful career."

Confused by her lack of excitement, he regarded her carefully. "Well, that's good, isn't it?"

"It is," Elizabeth reassured him. "It's wonderful….amazing news, but it was what else he said that I can't stop thinking about."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Shrugging noncommittally, she replied, "I don't know."

The stillness descended upon them again as neither knew what to say next. Finally, it was Jason who broke the silence the second time. "I have a hard time talking about things, too," he revealed. "Doctors and those who knew and loved the man I used to be before the accident, Jason Quartermaine, would tell you it's because I can't express myself. To express one's self, you would have to have feelings, and they say I don't."

"That's insane," Elizabeth argued, immediately defending him. "Just because you don't cry over spilled milk or lose your temper when someone provokes you, that doesn't mean you don't have feelings. You just react differently to certain situations compared to other people."

"I know," he agreed with her, offering a small smile in appreciation for her instantaneous vindication. "Well, I should say I know that now. At first, I believed them. After all, science and medicine are supposed to be 100 accurate, so I lived my life accordingly. Then I met two people who slowly proved both the doctors and my own ideas wrong, but there was always this doubt in the back of my mind that what I felt wasn't real, that it was superficial or forced, because I didn't want to be that damaged man. When I looked at your drawing though of my hands as I held Michael and read to him, I knew; I finally knew for sure, no more reservations or insecurities, that I am really capable of loving someone. You, Elizabeth, with your art, you gave me that gift, and I'll always be grateful. I can't really understand paintings or artwork, they're too abstract for my mind, but I could understand your picture. If you can do that for me, then you really are as talented as this professor tells you. I know my opinion doesn't mean anything, but, if you can't trust him, trust me. You're not just an artist; you're a talented one."

Breathlessly, she whispered, "thank you."

"No, Elizabeth," Jason corrected her with a warm, kind smile, "thank you."

Taking her hand in his, they both turned towards the cliff to, once again, quietly observe the city skyline, but, as the silence descended upon them for a third time, neither of them minded. His mind and heart had been unburdened; he had found his own way to express just how much her gift had meant to him, and, after listening to his words, she was no longer questioning her feelings. Instead, Elizabeth was trusting them, trusting herself, and trusting what her artwork had revealed to her: that through beauty and grace comes truth and acceptance.

Her body was buzzing with life, happiness, and an awareness Elizabeth had never experienced before, and it was all because of the man she followed into the penthouse that night. After their conversation at Vista Point, neither had felt it necessary to say anything else that evening to each other. Instead, they had simply gone riding, Jason pushing his bike to speeds normally considered dangerous under anyone else's control while she simply wrapped her arms around his strong, dependable body and enjoyed the sensations of the wind soaring past her and stars glowing above her. Even though the bike had been parked in the garage below them and they were home, the adrenaline from the ride was still coursing its way through her bloodstream.

The penthouse was dim, only the glow of the dying embers of a fire illuminating the otherwise dark room, Johnny had fled quickly and silently to go home as soon as they had walked through the door, Michael was sound asleep upstairs, and a lulling quiet shrouded the world, a quiet only accomplished in the dead of night. It was the perfect ending to her evening, and the only thing Elizabeth could think about doing was going up to her bedroom, crawling underneath the luxurious silk sheets, and reliving each and every delicious moment in her mind as she slowly unwound and fell asleep.

"Tonight," she mused, turning around to face Jason and to say goodnight, "it was exactly what I needed. You do that, you know," she realized, smiling at him. "You always know what I'll need or want even before I do."

"We look out for each other," he shrugged, simplifying their relationship. "You make sure I eat and take care of myself, and I make sure you let go and relax every now and again. That's why this," he motioned between them before looking around the penthouse, "us works so well. We fit."

"We do work well together," Elizabeth agreed. She went to walk away, but, just as she turned her back to him, he gently wrapped his right hand around hers and brought her back around to face him, keeping her right arm wrapped around her back as his fingers entwined with hers.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," he whispered. Letting his free hand slowly reach out to cup her jaw, he tilted her face up so he could look in her eyes as her left arm subconsciously wound its way around his waist to draw his body even closer to her own. "That's not how we fit." Without another word, Jason lowered his mouth to hers, letting his lips brush against hers in the softest of embraces, once, twice, three times, before his nose nudged hers in a whisper of invitation and his tongue tickled her bottom lip in a silent plea for entrance, a plea she readily granted. Their palettes melted together to mingle and create just one taste, just one essence, an essence that was purely original and purely their own. It was beautiful in its simplicity, luscious and passionate in its rightness, and all consuming in its perfection. It was everything Elizabeth had ever dreamt kissing Jason would be like and everything she had never dared dream for all at once, but, just as quickly as it had surprised her with its start, it was over, and he was disentangling their bodies and pulling away.

With one last touch, the rough brush of his thumb against the petal softness of her plump, kiss swollen bottom lip, he turned and made his way up the stairs. "Goodnight, Elizabeth."

And indeed it had been.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

A cloud of chaos seemed to be raining down upon Jason, and, no matter what he did, nothing seemed to alleviate the burden. He had stacks of paperwork, invoices, and receipts to file, applications to sort through for the extra summer help he wanted to hire, and, for a man who never shirked on his duties, he had no idea why he was suddenly so bombarded with tedious office details. Plus, on top of everything else he was responsible for at the warehouse, the _business_ was also taking up a large portion of his time. Despite the streets being relatively quiet, the five families were still demanding the usual quarterly meeting to discuss minor concerns and to keep up appearances. In his opinion, it was a vast waste of time, especially since he had not had an opportunity to see Elizabeth alone since the night he kissed her. There were things he knew they needed to talk about, and, besides wanting to reassure her that it wasn't going to be just a one time thing, he simply missed being with her. It had been four days since they had any privacy, and, if he didn't see and talk to her soon, Jason knew he was going to lose his temper. He could already hear his men whispering behind his back, saying that he had suddenly become unbearable again and that they were wondering about the cause of his abrupt shift in mood. If only they knew….

Apparently, he wasn't the only one with something on their mind. Francis stood before him, pacing and wringing his hands, his normally stoic face creased with lines of worry and anxiousness. Under ordinary circumstances, Jason would have found great amusement at his friend's discomfort, teasing him mercilessly, but he was just too damn busy to put up with the guard's indecisive and edgy behavior.

"Either spit it out, Donovan, or get the hell out of here and back to work. I have too much to do to sit here and watch you wear in a new pair of boots."

"You're right," the older man agreed, taking a seat and looking his boss squarely in the eye. "It'll be easier if I just get straight to the point."

"Finally."

"It's about Eliz…Miss Webber."

Immediately, Jason was on edge. Pushing his chair back, he leaned down across his desk and glared at his employee. "What's wrong with her, and, speaking of Elizabeth, why aren't you with her right now? You're her guard, 24/7. If you can't handle the job…"

"She's at home," the bodyguard interrupted. "Johnny, like usual, is on the door, and, when I left her for the morning, she was giving Michael a bath and getting him ready to go out later, and, yes, I will be accompanying her."

Confused, the younger man pressed, "then what's the matter? Is she sick, did something happen to upset her, is she unhappy?"

"Whoa, slow down there," Francis chuckled at his friend. "Nothing's wrong. She's just acting weird."

Suddenly relieved, he retook his seat before looking back at the hired hand. "She's a woman," he dismissed, "they're supposed to act differently than we do, Donovan. In fact, I'm pretty sure we're not supposed to understand them at all. On top of that, you know that Elizabeth has her…quirks."

"It's different than normal though, Morgan."

"Like how?"

"Well, for starters," the guard pointed out, "she's up earlier than usual, and she always has a reason for us to leave before you do."

"Finals are coming up," Jason explained. "She's under a lot of pressure with school, and she's trying to get all her last projects finished up."

"But we don't go to PCU," the older man argued. "We stop by Kelly's to pick up breakfast, and then we go and sit in the park."

"And…."

"And she's quiet!"

Waving off his employee's concern, the boss dismissed, "she probably just has a lot on her mind." Swirling in his chair so that Francis couldn't see his smirk, he continued. "The park's peaceful, and she most likely goes there to think and clear her head."

"But there's more," the bodyguard assured him. "You know Elizabeth and her infamous sweet tooth. Well," he declared triumphantly as if his next point would win him his case, "she switched to coffee – black coffee."

"There are many logical explanations as to why she might start drinking coffee all of a sudden," Jason responded, quickly becoming bored with the conversation. When the man across from him simply stared in wonder, he continued. "Maybe she wanted to start supporting my business; after all, coffee does make the money that backs up her paychecks, perhaps she realized how bad sugar is for her and decided to cut down on the sweets, and, yet, it could just be that her tastes simply changed. It has been known to happen before, Donovan."

"She's also mumbling a lot to herself," the guard pushed, not quite ready to give up on his quest to prove that something was different about his young charge.

"Elizabeth has always mumbled to herself."

"Yeah, but more so recently," Francis replied. "She always seems preoccupied, almost as if she's completely in another world."

This time Jason could not hide his smug grin. He knew exactly what was driving his son's nanny to distraction, for he was suffering from the same haunting memories and tempting thoughts himself. "Like I said, she probably just has something on her mind."

"Something so troubling that she sees fit to climb into trees so she can be alone?"

"What," the younger man queried, suddenly interested again in what his employee was saying. "She climbs trees?"

"Yeah," the bodyguard reiterated, believing that he was finally making his boss understand and accede his point, "the higher the better, in fact. She says that me constantly watching her makes it so that she can't concentrate. Plus, she says that I'm too observant, and she doesn't want me to figure out what's bothering her, because it's personal."

"Well, Francis, I have to say that I agree with her," Jason quipped. "I really wouldn't want you watching me either. It'd be kind of creepy."

"Fine," the older man huffed, standing up from his seat and moving towards the door, "if you're not going to take this seriously, I'll handle it myself."

"Listen, she's not hurt, she's not upset, and she's not putting Michael or herself in danger," Jason reasoned. "So, she has something on her mind. It happens sometimes. Just give her some space."

Suddenly, it was Francis who was curious. "Why are you so unconcerned?"

"Because I know what's bothering her," the boss answered easily. "There's something that we need to discuss, and, once we do, I'm sure Elizabeth will be back to her normal self."

"What did you do to her?"

"It's nothing bad," Jason reassured him. Although he couldn't refute the charge that he was to blame for the young woman's sudden shift in demeanor, that didn't mean he was going to confess all to his employee so he could run and report the news back to the other guards. He might not know everything that went on between the inner rankings of his men, but he wasn't stupid; he knew that they all gossiped about him and his personal life. However, there was no way he was going to discuss something private about his relationship with Elizabeth with someone else before he had a chance to talk to her about it. "Just, don't worry about it; I'll take care of it."

"That's not a denial," the older man charged. "You are to blame for this. I swear, if you do anything whatsoever to hurt that girl…."

"I would never do anything on purpose to hurt her, but if you don't knock off the accusations and get back to work, that same kindness will not be shown to you, Donovan."

"Right, boss," the guard apologized hastily, immediately pulling the door open so he could leave. "Sorry to bother you."

As soon as he as gone, Jason set back to working on the task at hand. He needed to get his paperwork and the meeting with the families over with as soon as possible, because his conversation with Elizabeth was way overdue. In fact, they needed to speak yesterday.

"Now this," Elizabeth enthused, indicating the department store they were standing in, "is much better than the mall. After last week, I don't think I'll ever go back."

"What was so bad about it, sweetheart?"

"It was just too loud and too crowded, not to mention a little on the stuffy side as well. Poor Michael was miserable, because I had him in warm clothes. Speaking of which, that's the first thing I need to look for – some cooler, summer outfits for him. Isn't that right," she cooed, leaning over to look at the baby boy in his stroller as she pushed it through the store.

Concerned and sounding greatly disapproving, Audrey questioned, "do you think that's such a good idea?"

"Why not?"

"Well, shouldn't the child's father handle the shopping for him?"

"Oh, please," the younger woman dismissed, laughing at her grandmother's statement, "Jason - shopping? I don't think so."

"How about Bobbie, he is her grandson after all. Why couldn't she buy his clothes for him?"

"Gram, really, it's no big deal. Why imposition Bobbie to do something when I'm willing to do it myself? If I didn't buy Michael's things for him, Jason would just hire a personal shopper, and they'll never really know what colors make him happy or what material he likes to feel against his skin. I know those things, I am his nanny, and I like buying him his clothes. Besides, it's not like I don't have plenty of money."

"Excuse me," the mature nurse stopped walking and turned around to face Elizabeth.

"You know that Jason pays me really well, and I don't have much to spend it on. Besides school and buying the things that I personally need like my clothes and my art supplies, I have nothing to do with my money except save it. School's paid for, I'm stocked up on anything and everything, and my savings account is starting to accumulate a nice sized balance. I can afford to buy Michael a few things for the summer."

"I wasn't questioning your ability to pay for the things you're going to buy today," the older woman clarified. "What I was questioning was whether it was wise or not for you to do such a thing."

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"He's not your son, dear."

"I'm quite clear on that, but thanks for the reminder." When Audrey continued to stare at her in quiet contradiction, Elizabeth queried, "what's this really about, Gram? It's obvious you want to say something, so just say it, because, let me tell you, coyness does not become you."

"It's nothing that I haven't voiced concern about before. I think that you're getting too attached to the child."

"It's easy to love a kid, and, frankly," Elizabeth argued, "I think he needs me in his life. I'm the only consistent maternal presence he has."

"For now," the older woman cautioned. "What's going to happen when you graduate from college?"

"I can paint full time and still be his nanny. In fact, I've gotten more work done in the past few months than I did the entire time I was taking a leave of absence from school. Michael inspires my creativity."

"That's wonderful, dear, but, even if you do stay on and work for Mr. Morgan after you finish college, the child is not going to need a full time nanny when he gets older," Audrey pointed out. "Eventually, there won't be a place for you in his life, and I think it's better that you accept that now and not get too emotionally involved."

"It'll be years before Michael starts school," the younger one pointed out, "and, even then, he's still going to need someone to take care of him, to help him with his homework, to take him to the park, to make sure he eats a healthy dinner, to tuck him in at night. I have a long time before I have to think about losing my job."

"It's too late already, isn't it," the elderly nurse realized. "You're already too close. You need that little boy just as much as he needs you."

"Is that really such a bad thing, Gram?"

"Oh, Elizabeth," Audrey sighed, surprising her granddaughter by enveloping her into a tender embrace, "of course it's not a bad thing. It just scares me, because it makes you vulnerable; it opens you up to being hurt, and the loss of a child, even if they're not yours biologically, is something it takes years to recover from. In fact, some women never can fully reclaim their lives."

Becoming teary eyed, the younger woman hastily wiped the indication of her intense emotions away. "But I really don't see anything or anyone ever taking Michael away from me."

"Life has a way of sneaking up and surprising us," the Grandmother advised. "You never know when something bad may happen." Further explaining her apprehension, she pressed, "how much do you know about this boy's mother? What if Carly returns to town, takes back her son, and pushes you away from Michael?"

"From what Johnny has told me about her, the woman will always need a nanny to take care of her child. She'd probably be too be busy spending Jason's money to make sure that Michael is safe, happy, and has everything that he needs. Besides," the artist added confidently, "Jason would never let her do that to me."

"Ah, yes, Mr. Morgan," Audrey exhaled dramatically, "another person you're letting yourself get too close to." While she continued talking, she missed the ruddy blush that stole across her granddaughter's cheeks. "What will happen to you and your position in his little boy's life if he ever settles down and gets married to a woman that isn't Carly?"

"Gram, that's enough," the nanny responded harshly. "I get it, okay? My life is tenuous, at best, in your opinion, but I'm not going to live it worrying about the 'what if's' and the unknown. I'm going to enjoy every day I have with Michael, and whatever happens in the future will happen, and I'll just have to adjust to it. Now," she practically pleaded, "can we please talk about something else?"

"Very well," the grandmother agreed. "Would you like to look for a dress this afternoon? I think that's what I'm going to focus my efforts upon finding."

"A dress," Elizabeth questioned, "for what?"

"For the Nurses Ball, of course, sweetheart. Hasn't Mr. Morgan told you about it yet?"

Laughing, the artist reasoned, "I don't think Jason's the type to go to a ball."

"Nonsense, he goes every year," Audrey stated confidently. "In fact, he and his former boss are always amongst the largest financial supporters of the charity event, but that's because of their connection to Robin."

Instead of the older woman's answers helping to alleviate her confusion, they just created more questions for Elizabeth. "Who's Robin?"

"Robin Scorpio is the Police Commissioner's niece, a good friend of Mr. Corinthos', Mr. Morgan's boss, and your employer's ex-girlfriend, although their breakup didn't seem to be too final to me."

Needing more information, the young college student pushed, "what exactly do you mean, Gram?"

"Well, according to Bobbie who heard it from Felicia, a close friend of the Scorpio family, it wasn't a lack of love that broke up Robin and Mr. Morgan. After they were shot at, she wanted him to quit his….job, but he refused, so she moved to Paris to attend school there. Despite their separation, I'm sure Mr. Morgan will want to support her at the Nurses Ball, so we should definitely get you a dress."

"What does the ball have to do with Robin?"

"Oh, dear, you really are lacking on your local history and gossip, aren't you," Audrey asked rhetorically. "Come on," she ordered, immediately taking off for the women's fine apparel, "I'll tell you everything while we shop."

"Oh, Michael," Elizabeth lamented tearfully, "I don't know what to do. I'm so frustrated, and I have so many questions that I could just scream."

Jason had no idea how long he had been standing there listening to her talk, but what he did know was that it was a good thing that he was home. After his meeting had ended, he had rushed back to the penthouse, eagerly looking forward to finally having his discussion with Elizabeth about the kiss they had shared and what it meant for their relationship, but, as he stepped inside the luxury apartment, his animated nanny and son were nowhere to be found on the ground level. Climbing the stairs, he started to hear the quiet strains of a female voice from the nursery and realized that he would find them there. Michael had just been moved back into his own room the day before, his mural of a world map finally finished. Each wall contained a fourth of the earth on it, and the entire thing was painted in muted, soft, pastel tones, and, while the painting was done to scale and accuracy, Elizabeth had almost lent it a relaxed, child-like essence by rounding the lines and softening the edges of the various countries. The finished mural had surprised him, because it was so versatile and mature, and it was definitely something Michael could grow into with age. However, as he rounded the corner of the hallway that evening to find them in the nursery, Elizabeth wasn't working on the finishing touches or even putting his son to bed; instead, she was lying on her back on the floor and cradling Michael to her chest, talking to him while he continued to sleep soundly, oblivious to her words or the concern and worry that haunted them.

"It's just….everything is changing so quickly," she continued on, unaware of his presence. "At first, I welcomed the change. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for your Daddy to finally kiss me," hearing her admit that made Jason smirk with pride, "but now there are so many things I'm unsure about when it comes to him. First, there's always your Mom. She has the ability to tear into my life and completely destroy it. If Carly comes back, my existence will be like Florida after Hurricane Andrew, and, even if she doesn't, there's always Robin, who is, according to my Gram, the love of your Daddy's life. Is he simply filling the void she left in his heart with me while he waits for her to return from Paris, or maybe our kiss didn't mean anything to him like it did for me? Ugh," she groaned in frustration, "I just need some freaking answers, and you, kid, you're not much of a talker yet…if you ever will be."

"Here," Jason offered, stepping into the room, making his presence noticed, and coming to stand by her side, "let me take him for you." As Elizabeth handed him Michael, he shifted him to his left shoulder and offered her his right hand to help her up off of the floor. Once she was standing, he couldn't help but notice that she refused to meet his eye, and he only imagined that the deep, crimson flush that was spreading across her face and neck traveled all the way from her hair line to her always perfectly polished toes. He knew that he shouldn't have startled her like that and alerted her to the fact that he had been listening to her talk to herself, but he couldn't fight off the temptation to tease her through his silence. As soon as Michael was safely tucked into his crib, he, without word, led Elizabeth out of the room and back down the stairs so that they could sit together and finally have the conversation they'd needed to have for four days.

"We need to talk," he announced, lounging on the couch and pulling her down to sit intimately between his legs. His arms wrapped around her body and his fingers laced together with hers before he continued. "For the record," he started, "that kiss did mean something to me; in fact, it meant a lot."

"I'm glad," she whispered, finally relaxing into his embrace.

"As for everything else," Jason pressed on, "Carly, Robin, and what's going on between us, I'll tell you everything and anything you need to know."

"Just tell me what you want me to understand," she asked of him. And he did.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Sonny had been gone for months, leaving Jason in charge of not only their legitimate businesses but also the more illicit ones as well, but time didn't seem to help him adjust to being the boss. He hated the mundane routine, the countless meetings and phone conferences which were more of a show of good faith than actually productive, and the constraints the title of his position put upon him. If it was a beautiful day, he couldn't just go down to the garage, rev up his motorcycle, and ride until he couldn't push himself any farther. During the day, he had to go everywhere with guards, and, even at night, if he wanted to go to a public place, he couldn't be alone. The only time he could actually achieve any privacy with Elizabeth at all was when they simply were able to go to the middle of nowhere on his bike, but, with Michael, their trips away from the penthouse were few and far between. Sure, the guards would watch the little boy when asked, but neither of them felt comfortable pushing their responsibilities off onto anyone else, so they rarely took advantage of the men's generosity, but that didn't mean he wouldn't randomly find himself wishing he was, once again, just an enforcer….and that was just what he was doing that afternoon.

On most Saturdays, he would take the afternoon to go with Michael and Elizabeth to the park, but nothing had gone to plan that day. It had been raining, nonstop, since he had woke up that morning, never once even letting up enough where a raincoat, a pair of boots, and an umbrella could ward off most of the May moisture. Plus, because he was working on purchasing more coffee fields in South America, there were contracts to review, deeds to survey, and research to read over before any decisions could be made. For the early part of the afternoon, he had worked on in relative peace, the quiet strains of Michael's baby laughter filtering through the penthouse as Elizabeth played with him upstairs in the nursery. Knowing he liked to hear the sounds of his son's happiness, she had left the door open for him, but, twenty minutes before, her soft, slightly comical singing had ceased, and Jason knew the little boy was down for a nap. Silence was suddenly the only thing keeping him company while he continued to work the day away, and, although he knew better, the brooding man would swear that it was taunting him.

All he wanted to do was say to hell with the paperwork, toss it aside, find Elizabeth, and curl up on the couch with her, talking softly, sharing embraces, and, in between the comfortable silences that would stretch between them, close his eyes and rest as the sounds of the storm raging outside lulled them into a state of tranquil relaxation. She would cuddle up in his lap, let him run his fingers through her thick, rich hair, and soothingly draw invisible pictures against his chest while she whispered on and shared with him new stories of Michael, her ideas for her next painting, or simply a humorous little insight into her past. After all, rainy days were meant for lounging with someone you were close to, but the only thing Jason would be holding close that afternoon was his pen, and the only thing he would be caressing were the thin sheets of paper keeping him from the woman haunting his every waking thought. Damn Sonny.

Before he could turn back to his work, he heard soft footsteps alighting the stairs, alerting him to the fact that Elizabeth was joining him, and, despite knowing that the sooner he finished with the paperwork, the sooner he could spend some time with her, he found himself pushing his chair back to watch the petite brunette as she came into view, appreciating the vision she made before him.

Not noticing his attention, Elizabeth asked, "would this dress be alright for the Nurses Ball," as she motioned towards the same outfit she had worn to go out on Valentines Day. "I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to wear, and, although my Gram told me a little bit about it a couple of weeks ago when we went shopping, she's not exactly up on the latest fashion trends. So, I thought I'd run a few dresses by you to see if you thought they would be appropriate since I can't do anything else today, what with the weather and all."

Jason had no idea how to respond. If he thought about it, he really couldn't remember what women usually wore to the annual, black tie event. Sure, he knew they wore dresses, but what kind, he had no clue. The only things he could remember about the ball from year to year was how much he hated wearing a tux, that Lucy always ended up in her underwear, and that, if it wasn't for the fact that it helped raise money for AIDS research, there was no way anyone would get him there. When he was still dating Robin, he went with her, and, now that he wasn't, he went for her out of respect for an old relationship and friend, but that still left him in no-man's land when it came to helping Elizabeth figure out what she should wear. Luckily, before he could say anything inappropriate or put his foot in his mouth, she answered her own question.

"You know, this is supposed to be a special night, and I don't want to spend it in a dress that will only remind me of an evening I'd rather forget about. I want to have fun at the ball. Stay here," the energetic nanny ordered him, "I'll be right back down with another dress on."

He went to tell her that he had to concentrate on his work, but she had already disappeared, leaving his mouth agape with prepared words he'd never get to speak. Shaking his head in amusement, Jason turned back to his desk and started reading over the soil tests performed on the fields he was considering buying. He'd just have to tell Elizabeth that he couldn't help her the next time she came down.

It wasn't five minutes later when she returned, practically skipping down the steps, and, despite his intentions not to look at her, he couldn't help himself. Peering over his shoulder, he found her in another short dress and watching him closely for his reaction.

"So," she pressed, "what do you think of this one?"

"It's red," Jason remarked, shrugging as he was unsure as to what he was supposed to say.

"Well, at least I know you're not color blind like Francis," the brunette quipped, frowning slightly, "but I think it's actually closer to maroon," she decided, staring down at the frock while contemplating its hue. "But you're right; I don't think it's the best shade for the night. After all, it'll be summer by then, and I don't want to wear a dark color and look too wintry."

Satisfied, she retreated back up the stairs. It wasn't until he heard her softly shut her bedroom door that he realized he still hadn't mentioned the fact that he was too busy to help her pick out a dress. Her questions and subsequent comments left him seemingly confused, especially when she credited him for helping her make a decision for or against a dress when he hadn't said anything constructive. Not to mention the fact that she had killed his idea of suggesting they call Francis up from his apartment for help, but maybe Max could come over. True, he lived on the other side of town, but Jason knew that the bulky Italian wasn't against breaking a few traffic regulations to get somewhere in a hurry, and he was a sensitive type of guy. Maybe he would be able to give Elizabeth some suggestions. Satisfied with his idea, he turned to make the call when he heard her retreating down the stairs in yet another outfit.

"Okay, so how about tea length," the young artist pondered. "When I was looking through my dresses, I realized that the short ones might not be formal enough, but tea length should work, right? I mean, I know they won't actually be serving tea, but how prim and proper could the event really be?"

"I have to wear a monkey suit," he offered in the hope that his response would prove to her just how insanely elegant the ball was.

"Tuxes," Elizabeth bemoaned, "so I should wear a full length gown?" His only response was to scratch the faint stubble growing in on his chin. "I only have two long dresses, and they're from my junior and senior proms in high school, but I don't like them, because they make me look short."

Jason's eyebrows furrowed. "You are short," he pointed out.

"Yeah, and that's not helping," she snapped, playfully glaring at him.

"Why don't I call Max to help you," the befuddled Mafioso suggested. "Johnny's on the door, but he'll only make fun of you the whole time instead of offering tips and suggestions, but Max….he'd take you seriously."

"He would," the nanny agreed, "but, even though he likes to go shopping and is in touch with his feminine side, the man has no idea how to dress. Just last week," Elizabeth offered as proof of her statement, "I had to make him go home before we took Michael for his shots, because he wore brown shoes with a black suit. Can you imagine!"

Suddenly having limited patience when it came to shopping was an advantage for Jason, because he had only been able to last long enough to get several black suits and one pair of black dress shoes when Sonny had forced him to go shopping for formal work wear. At least he knew he would never horrify Elizabeth and make the same mistake his employee had. Not that he cared about the rules of fashion, but he didn't want her to feel as if she had to help him get dressed everyday. In fact, when he thought about it, he only wanted her to undress him. With that image in his mind, Jason snapped back to the present only to realize that she had disappeared upstairs on him, once again, and he knew she would be back in a matter of minutes with another dress for him to comment on. Why was it that whenever she was around, he got little to nothing done? Hell, who was he kidding? Even when she wasn't around, the thought of her being there when he got home was sometimes distracting enough for him to end up wasting a half an hour just thinking about how he would greet her that evening.

"So this was my prom dress from my junior year," the diminutive brunette announced, reentering the living room. "I'd have to get it altered though, because, apparently," she commented, laughing, while clasping her hands firmly across her chest which was pushing its way out of her dress, "I've grown since then."

If he had anything to say about it, the dress would definitely not be altered; he liked it just the way it was. However, Jason knew he'd be glaring half the night, because no man would be able to look away from her, and wandering looks in her direction would not be appreciated or tolerated. Clearing his throat and trying, unsuccessfully, to lift his gaze from her ample cleavage, he finally found his voice. "It's….nice."

"Nice," the artist repeated his reaction. "It's nice? Ugh," she groaned, turning around and trudging up the stairs so loudly he was afraid she'd wake up Michael. "The kiss of death, you gave it the kiss of death. That's it! This dress is going to charity."

She was gone in a whirlwind of mumbled curses and angry stomps, leaving the older man to wonder what exactly was wrong with the word nice. Wasn't it a compliment? He had always considered it to be one, but, judging by Elizabeth's reaction, she took the word to mean anything but the flattery it was meant to express. Under normal circumstances, he was not a man of words, but things were only going to get worse if their meanings were going to be suddenly switched around. To make matters worse, with every dress she tried on, Elizabeth seemed to sidetrack him just a little bit more, and, if they continued at their current rate, it would be the next growing season before he had made his decision to by the coffee fields or not. If it was the last thing he did, he had to somehow find a way to get his work done and that meant finding something to occupy his bored nanny.

"Alright, this is the last one," she announced while walking regally down the stairs clad in a tight, low cut black dress that immediately made Jason's heart rate speed up to an unhealthy rate. "I know we decided that I shouldn't wear a dark color, but, this is the only thing I have left, and, if this dress won't do, then I'm going to have to go out and buy something new, and, really, why should I waste the money an outfit I'll probably only wear once?"

"It's a great dress," Jason complimented, standing up and making his way towards her. Once he reached her, he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her towards his body, trapping her in his embrace, "and you look great in it, but there's no way I'm letting you outside that door with only that on."

"Jealous, Morgan?"

"Possessive," he corrected, grinning down at her and earning himself an amused smile in return. "Listen, I'll buy you a new dress if you don't want to spend the money."

"I can't let you do that."

"Doesn't matter," he shrugged his shoulders, dismissing her refusal, "because I'm offering it to you as a gift, and you know that it's rude to turn down a gift."

"Fine," Elizabeth relented, "but you're not going with me to pick it out. I want it to be a surprise."

"I hate shopping, so that's fine with me. You can go next week on your day off," he suggested. "But, for now, why don't you go and take this off, put on some shorts and a t-shirt, and paint while I try to get some work done."

"I'll change my clothes," she agreed, stepping away from his embrace, "but I can't paint. It's too humid; the paint would never dry."

Finally, Jason thought as he moved back towards his desk, she was done with her little fashion show, would find something to do to keep herself occupied, and he would be able to finish going over his paperwork. Sitting back down, he started in earnest to read the soil reports, but, before he was even half way down the page, he heard Elizabeth's steps as she rejoined him and, second later, felt her hands resting on his shoulders.

"How much more do you have left to do?"

"A lot," he answered, pausing for a moment before wondering out loud, "why?"

"Because," the nanny responded, dropping several whispering kisses upon his neck, "I'm bored, Michael's napping, we have an entire penthouse all to ourselves, and, if necessary, I'm sure I can think of something for Johnny to do to get rid of him. In fact, Michael's almost out of formula, so he should go and get some."

"No, he's not," a confused Jason argued with her. He had fixed the little boy's bottle at lunchtime, and they had plenty of formula in the cupboard.

"You're supposed to go along with me," she chastised him good-naturedly by biting down on his earlobe. "You know, for operation privacy."

"Trust me," he reassured her, standing up and, once again, wrapping his arms around her waist, "there's nothing I'd like better than to spend some alone time with you, but I really have to get this paperwork done."

"Alright, alright, I'll leave you alone with your little coffee contracts."

And she did just last after extricating herself from his grasp and moving to sit on the couch, but, just ten minutes later, he could hear her moving around restless on the furniture, as if she was trying to find a comfortable position. Several minutes after that, the television was turned on, and Jason knew he was going to have to do something to get her out of the room, because, once she was watching TV, he knew what would happen next. She would start talking back to it, making comments and, despite his lack of interest in all things pop culture, her remarks would pique his curiosity, and he would get no work done. Silently, so she couldn't detect his movements, he stood up from his chair and made his way across the room, bending down so that his mouth was right next to her ear before speaking.

"This isn't going to work, and you know it."

"What's wrong, Morgan," Elizabeth teased, her eyes flashing with mischief. "Am I distracting you?" The little minx knew exactly what she was doing; he didn't need to tell her, so, deciding to take matters into his own hands, he quickly picked her up from the couch, tossed her over his shoulder, and carried her towards the balcony, all the while fighting a smile at the sound of her giddy laughter. "What are you doing," she questioned him, swinging her feet in an attempt to get him to put her down. When he said nothing, she pressed in a taunting tone, "Jason, come on, this isn't helping you get your work done."

"Yes, it is," he returned, opening the door and placing her out on the terrace. Her small form was soaked within seconds, and, no matter what he did, he couldn't fight off the smile any longer as he looked on as she sputtered and cursed his actions. However, his amusement quickly died away when she pushed her hair out of her face and glared up at him. He recognized the look in her eye and knew their little game of wills was not over yet. In fact, he could tell that, if it was up to Elizabeth, it was only just beginning.

"So, you think that's funny," the artist asked rhetorically as she slithered her way inside, backing him up further into the penthouse with every step. Once she was out of the rain again, she shut the French doors and twisted back around to look at him. "Well," she queried, "do you find this funny as well," and proceeded to peel off her sopping wet t-shirt, leaving her in nothing but her bra and shorts that definitely lived up to their name.

"You should probably take a shower," he suggested, ignoring her comments. "The rain will make your skin sticky. Or," Jason got an even better idea, "you could take a nice, long, relaxing bubble bath." Yeah, a bath, that would keep her occupied for a long time, giving him an opportunity to work for a while uninterrupted.

"Oh, I don't think so," she teased him, a smirk playing on her full, plump lips. "You're not getting rid of me that easily." To prove her point, she leaned her scantily clad chest and abdomen against him, the moisture from her skin quickly soaking through his thin shirt and immediately eradicating any thoughts he might have been having about getting her to go upstairs. "If you want to play, we'll play." And, with that, words became superfluous.

Her hands were everywhere, teasing, tickling, touching his jaw, his chest, his arms, his stomach as her mouth fused with his. At first, the embrace was tender, almost exploratory. After all, they were still getting used to the new level of their relationship, but, before either of them realized what they were doing, the desire they felt for one another was taking over, their mouths opened underneath the pressure of the others, and their palettes were blended together into a single essence. Soon, his shirt joined hers on the floor, and, as her delicate digits moved in a languorous pattern towards the waistband of his jeans, his longer, more blunt fingers toyed with the small clasp of her bra nestled discreetly between her two, tantalizing breasts. Just as he released the fastening, freeing her to his greedy hands, the front door opened, Johnny walked in, and their moment was instantaneously ruined.

"Miss Scorpio to see you," the bodyguard announced before realizing he had just announced his boss' ex-girlfriend to both his employer and his employer's current girlfriend right before they were about to round second base. Although Elizabeth was hidden from his view by Jason's imposing back, a very good thing in and of itself, the clothes that littered the floor, the sexually charged tension choking the air out of the room, and the ire rolling off the mafia boss in palpable waves all told the Irish man that things were about to get very interesting on the penthouse floor, and that wasn't even taking into account Robin's reaction to the entire situation.

"Oh my god," a high pitched female voice exclaimed, a voice that sounded like Elizabeth's but was several octaves higher than usual. "Jason," she ordered, "give me your shirt."

"I can just get you yours," he offered, but she quickly rejected his offer.

"No," the nanny squealed, burrowing herself even closer to his large form, "you can't move away from me."

"And what am I supposed to wear?"

"I don't know," Elizabeth squeaked, panic entering her voice the longer they stood there exposed to prying eyes. "Nothing, anything, the blanket off the back of the couch," she suggested, taking the t-shirt he offered her and quickly slipping it over her head. As soon as she was dressed again, she looked up at him, "I'm sorry, but I really don't care what you wear. I have to go….now. I'll see you in six months to a year, whenever I either get over the embarrassment or my cookie stash in my room runs out, whatever happens first. If you'll excuse me, there's a bathtub calling my name and its waiting for me to drown myself in it."

As she fled from the room, her embarrassment evident by the bright scarlet blush tingeing her otherwise porcelain cheeks, Jason stared after her as she ran, unsure of what to do or say but wanting to ease her discomfort in some way, Robin simply gaped at the scene in front of her, surprised speechless, and Johnny started to laugh. Although he attempted to hide his mirth, the sparkle in his green eyes was too bright to be excused by mere interest, the smile on his face too wide to be excused as genuine, everyday pleasantry, and the chuckles escaping his thin lips were too frequent to be excused as an attempt to ease the tension.

"I'll come back later….next week," Robin offered, breaking through the uncomfortable silence, "and I'll call before I come." Turning around, she moved towards the door and exited, but stopped before continuing to the elevators. "Better yet," she amended her statement, "I'll just see you….both of you….in a couple of weeks at the Nurses Ball. Yeah, under the circumstances, I think that would be the best idea." Her chocolate brown eyes flashed between both men before moving to settle on her feet. "Um….bye." Just as quickly as she had arrived, she disappeared.

"That is why I love my job," Johnny quipped, grinning like an idiot as he closed the door to the penthouse, "and that's also why I will always be a bachelor."

Alone. With Elizabeth upstairs hiding from the world, Robin back to wherever she had mysteriously arrived from, and Johnny, once again, in the hall guarding the door, Jason was finally alone. Too bad he still couldn't concentrate on his work. Shirtless, he leaned back in his leather desk chair, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the headache he felt starting, and cursed his fate once again. "Damn you, Sonny, damn you."

Man did he really hate being the boss.

It was her day off, and Elizabeth had the entire thing planned to the very last detail. Between running errands, catching up with her Grandmother, and going shopping for her dress, Jason and Michael were not expecting her back at the penthouse until late that evening. Her first stop was the college bookstore where she had to put her order in for next semester's textbooks, a painful but necessary task.

She never really understood why books cost so much; even the used ones were too expensive, but it always worked out so that if you didn't buy them, you needed them. So, here she was debit card and list in hand ready to purchase and a dependable, always sympathetic bodyguard at her side ready to listen to her whine and complain the whole way back to the car. Sometimes the boys really did come in handy.

Finished, she turned around to loop her arm in Francis' only to find him greeting another petite, pale, brunette woman, the very same woman who had walked in on her and Jason in a very intimate embrace a few days before, the very same woman who used to date Jason.

"Robin Scorpio," the blonde security personnel smiled at the med student and lifted his arms to offer her a hug. "It's been a while. What are you doing back in Port Charles?"

"I'm here for the summer," she revealed, returning his warm welcome and embrace, "visiting my uncle and cousins, catching up with old friends, and just relaxing."

"It's good to see you. Will you be performing at the Nurses Ball next month? I always enjoy your numbers."

"We'll see," the brown eyed woman laughed. "Lucy's determined to get me up on that stage, but I kind of just want to watch this year."

"If Lucy wants something, you and I both know she'll get it," Francis teased, winking at the young woman. "Oh, where are my manners," he exclaimed, remembering that Elizabeth was standing right there with him. Turning to her, he motioned between the two women. "Robin Scorpio, this is Elizabeth Webber, Jason's….."

"Friend," the med student filled in for him. "Yes, we've met already."

"You did?"

"She stopped by the penthouse over the weekend," the young artist supplied for the bewildered bodyguard, filling in the blanks for him.

"Briefly dropped by," Robin amended her statement. "I was there just long enough to….."

"To let Jason know that you were back in town," the blue eyed brunette finished. "However, we really must be going. I have somewhere else I have to be. It was nice seeing you again," she offered, dragging a still confused Francis behind her as she moved towards the exit, not even waiting long enough for the guard or the other woman to say their goodbyes.

From there, they went to the coffee shop where she always found her favorite breakfast croissants, but, no matter what Francis said, she couldn't pay attention to him. Her mind was instead focused upon why Robin would have been in the PCU bookstore. From what Jason had told her, she knew that she was studying in Paris, that it had always been her dream, so, if she was transferring back to upstate New York, what was making her return? Elizabeth was so distracted by her thoughts, that she did not watch where she was walking and missed the doorway, stubbing her toe and subsequently dropping her pastry, on their way out of the family owned establishment.

"Are you alright," a sweet, concerned voice asked her, bending down to pick up her dropped breakfast before the young nanny could reach for it herself. "You're just wearing flip flops; you didn't break anything, did you?"

Looking up, a pretty pink blush burning her cheeks in embarrassment, Elizabeth came face to face with the worried brown eyes of Robin Scorpio. She knew at that point that she should just throw in the towel, give up her plans, and retreat to the penthouse, because the universe was obviously determined to ruin her day. "I'm fine, but thanks for asking."

"Are you sure," the med student pushed, "because, if not, I can look at your foot for you if you want?"

"Nothing's broken," the blue eyed artist reassured her would be rescuer. "With as many doctors as there are in my family, trust me, I can tell the difference between a facture and a bump that will result in a bruise."

"But you dropped your croissant. I was about to get one myself; they're just one of the many things I find myself missing about Paris. Do you want me to get one for you, too?"

"Thank you, it was really nice of you to offer, but that's not necessary. I only had a few minutes to stop by in between my last stop and my next one, and, if I wait for another pastry, I'll be late. Thanks again, Miss Scorpio," she added before ducking out of the door. Francis followed dutifully behind, simply offering Robin a baffled nod of his head before leaving with even more questions bombarding his mind to ask his young charge.

The whole way to the hospital, Elizabeth listened as he asked her one thing after another, but she dodged his inquiries, giving him a weak recount of her brief meeting with the med student the weekend before, leaving out anything and everything that had to do with her compromising position with Jason. By the time he had parked the car in the visitor's parking lot at the hospital, Elizabeth was back to hating having a bodyguard with her wherever she went; they were nothing but intrusive and vexingly prying.

They were waiting in line for Michael's medicine – he was teething for the first time – at the pharmacy when she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up inexplicably, but, before she could even think about what would make her feel so on edge, the cause of her apprehension sidled up to stand beside her as if they were best friends.

"Alright, this is getting a little weird," Robin commented, chuckling, "even for Port Charles. We must really be operating on the same wave length today."

"Hello again," Elizabeth greeted the brown eyed brunette beside her with a tight smile. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were following me."

"It's crazy, I know," the med student agreed. "I went to the bookstore to pick up some supplies for the correspondence course I'm taking this summer, and there you were. Then, I show up at my favorite coffee shop, and you're there buying a croissant, too, and, now, we're both here picking up prescriptions. Of all the pharmacies in this town, we pick the same one."

"Well, my Gram works here at the hospital, and I'm meeting her after her shift to go back to her house to help her in her flower beds before we go out to lunch," the young nanny explained her choice of drugstore. "What about you, why exactly did you choose this pharmacy?"

"I came by to talk to Alan, to make an appointment with him, and to see if he wouldn't mind me shadowing him some this summer. Plus, I always use this one." Furrowing her brow in unease, she asked, "are you sick, Miss Webber?"

"No, Michael's teething."

Shocked, the other woman's brown eyes widened in surprise. "You have a son?"

"I see your family hasn't kept you caught up on the latest Port Charles news," Elizabeth quipped, offering Jason's ex her first sincere smile that morning. "Michael is Jason's son. I'm his nanny."

"But I thought you and he….I mean, from what I walked in on last Saturday….who's the little boy's mother?"

Just then, the druggist announced that her prescription was ready. "I'm sorry, Miss Scorpio, but my relationship with Jason is none of your business, and, as for Michael, it's not my place to tell you about him."

With that, she paid for Michael's medicine, and left Robin standing there stunned by her response, poor Francis following obediently along with, yet again, even more questions that would go unanswered. From the pharmacy, she found her Gram, and they left together, with Francis driving, to go back to her house. Just as they had decided the week before, they worked outside planting flowers together until it was lunch time. Thankfully, as they ate at the Grille, Robin Scorpio was nowhere in sight, and Elizabeth started to breathe a little bit easier. After they dropped Audrey back off at her house, they proceeded to start shopping, going from one boutique to another until they finally arrived at Wyndhams, a determined Elizabeth prepared to shop for as long as it took to find her dress while a sales associate helped her look and Francis stood in the far end of the dressing room hallway attempting to appear as inconspicuous as he possibly could.

"I think I've found the perfect dress," the sales associate announced as she returned. "With you light skin tone and dark hair, it's the perfect shade for you."

Excited, the young artist exited her dressing room clad in her own clothes to look at the gown. "Let me see it," she asked, freezing when she realized she wasn't the only petite, pale, brunette to utter those words. Standing across from her was Robin Scorpio, also, apparently, looking for her dress for the Nurses Ball at the department store.

"You take it," Elizabeth offered, attempting to sound magnanimous, but it was clear she just wanted to escape from the situation. "It's getting late, Francis has been trailing after me all day long, I really want to get home to Jason and Michael, and I still have to pick up dinner on my way home. I'll just finish shopping another day." Ducking into the dressing room, she grabbed her purse and slipped on her sandals before leaving in a hurry, not even bothering to wave in goodbye.

Like she had declared at Wyndhams, the nanny went straight from the store to Kelly's to pick up food for her and Jason's dinner. All she wanted to do was pay and get out of there before she had another run-in with her boyfriend's ex-girlfriend. When she was around Robin, she felt awkward and uncomfortable, the memories of their first meeting embarrassing her, and the knowledge of the other woman's prior connection with Jason making her feel slightly insecure and nervous about their fledging relationship. She knew her feelings weren't fair towards either Jason or Robin, and she hated doubting his commitment to her, but she was new to the whole relationship idea, and a relationship with Jason Morgan was anything but what she had read about in books or seen on TV or in the movies. Robin Scorpio was a complication she didn't want or need in her life, and, after a day of playing tag with her all over the city, her patience was definitely starting to fray. Finally, her order was up, and, after paying, she moved towards the exit, freezing in her place when the very person she was hoping to avoid walked through the door.

"Elizabeth," the young med student moved straight towards her and started speaking. "Can we talk?"

"Of course," she agreed although stiffly, "but it will have to be quick, because I don't want our dinner to get cold."

Taking a seat, the brown eyed brunette pointed to the chair opposite her own. "Please sit." Once she had, Robin smiled tentatively at her while looking her straight in the eye. "I know that Saturday was discomforting for you…."

"Now there's an understatement."

"But you have nothing to feel awkward about," the older of the two women continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. "You were doing nothing wrong. I was the one who barged into your house, and Johnny is the one who needs to learn how to knock."

"Please," Elizabeth scoffed, "that will never happen. O'Brien's main objective in life is to get blackmail material to use against me."

"You get along with the guards, you're friends with them, aren't you," the med student realized, not waiting for a reaction before continuing. "That's exactly why your relationship with Jason will work when mine with him didn't. I couldn't handle his lifestyle, Elizabeth, and that was just back when he was simply working for Sonny, not running the business, and, where I was always scared of what could happen, you seem to live in the moment. Just like Jason, you take one day at a time, live it as fully as you can, and you don't worry about what tomorrow will bring. That's what he needs; you are who he needs, so, please, don't avoid me because of my history with him or fear that I'm in town to win him back. I'm happy with my life, I love school, and I don't think I'll ever leave Paris."

"Wow."

Caught off guard by the response, Robin quirked her eyebrow at the younger woman. "What?"

"You pretty much figured me out without having to ask any questions, and you did it after just one day of me trying to avoid you."

"I'm studying to be a doctor," the brown eyed woman responded. "I'm supposed to be vigilant and alert."

"Well," Elizabeth joked, "you get an A in observation, Scorpio."

"Are we okay now?"

"Sure," the artist returned, standing up with her bag of food, "we're good. See you around, Robin."

With that, she left the small, family friendly diner and rejoined Francis outside, intent upon finally going home for the night. Even though she still hadn't found her dress for the Nurses Ball, the day had still been a success; after all, it wasn't everyday that you got the dating seal of approval from the ex-girlfriend. At ease, relaxed, and content, Elizabeth climbed into the car, completely ready to spend the rest of her day with the two most important men in her life: her boss/boyfriend and her boss/boyfriend's baby boy.

"I'm home," Elizabeth announced as she unlocked the door and walked into the penthouse. As soon as she saw Jason sitting on the couch, a packed duffle bag lying at his feet, the smile illuminating her face fell away, and it was replaced with a worried frown. "What's wrong; where are you going?"

Ignoring her inquiries, he stood up and made his way across the room towards her. "How was your day? Did you find a dress?"

"Fine and no, now answer my questions."

"There's a problem with the contracts for those coffee fields I'm trying to buy. I have to go down to South America and get everything straightened out." Sighing, Jason pulled her into a hug and buried his face against her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's alright," she dismissed his apologies. "It's your job. If it has to be done, do it. Michael and I will be fine here, and don't worry about the guards; we'll keep the three stooges in line for you." Placing her hands on his face, she lifted his head so she could peer into his eyes. "All I ask is that you're careful and that you come back to us as soon as you can."

"That I can do."

"Alright, then kiss me goodbye," Elizabeth playfully ordered, grinning up at him while wigging her eyebrows in mischief, "and, remember, it's going to be your last kiss for a few days, so you might want to make it a good one."

He needed no further encouragement. Mimicking her pose, he cupped her jaw and pulled her mouth to his, but, unlike their previous kisses, there was no tentative exploration or gentle, tender brushings of their lips. From the moment their mouths joined together, the embrace was passionate, filled with an unlimited amount of desire on both of their parts, and drugging in its addictive nature. He nipped at her full lips, soothing the wounds with his eager tongue, sucked, explored the inner caverns of her mouth with his own, their tongues dueling each other for control, ravished, and drank from her essence, memorizing her taste, her touch, and her scent and storing away the soft, hypnotic sounds of her little, intoxicating moans and gasps of pleasure for when he was far away from her. Before either of them wanted to part though, they had to break away before losing consciousness from want of fresh air, and, as Jason stepped back to gather his things, Elizabeth could do nothing but stare at him, too mesmerized by his kiss to say or do anything.

"No matter what," he promised her, "I'll be back to take you to the ball, so you better find a dress."

"You're taking me," she asked, stunned by his remark. "We're going together?"

"Of course we are. I have to go, you want to, and there's no way in hell I'm letting another man take my girl anywhere."

He bent to kiss her one last time, just a hint of his lips against hers, before walking out the door. The last thing she heard as he left was the sound of his deep, masculine laughter as he enjoyed the astonished expression still etched across her beautiful face. In his own way, Jason had staked his claim to her, a truly primitive, chauvinist behavior, and, despite her feminist instincts, she found herself liking his archaic, possessive manner. It made her feel wanted, protected, and, most importantly of all, secure in their relationship. They were both in this together for the long haul, and neither of them, no matter what happened or who returned to town, was going anywhere anytime soon.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: So, this chapter has been long in the making. I hope you enjoy it. _

Charlynn

Chapter Ten

"I look like a grape. I'm going to a ball, a real, genuine, lavish ball, something I thought only people like Cinderella and soap opera characters attended, and I'm going to look like a giant piece of fruit."

"Psh, Webber," Johnny O'Brien dismissed, giving her hope, while reading a magazine – her _People_ magazine – "you're anything but giant."

She couldn't help it. She knew it was childish, petty, and that it would not make her feel better, but, in her annoyance, she picked up the closest thing available which turned out to be a nearly full bottle of water and chucked it at the sardonic bodyguard's face. It missed him, but, as she watched it sail by his, in her opinion, overly large head, nearly hitting him and making the aggravating man jump off the bed to avoid decapitation by beverage, a very small, particularly vindictive part of Elizabeth felt vindicated. However, the satisfaction was fleeting.

"Would you just chill," her friend instructed almost pleadingly. "I know that you're upset that he's not back yet, but, if Morgan said he'd be there, he will."

"I know, I know," she agreed, closing her eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath. "I trust Jason, and, even if he breaks his promise to me, I know that he would only do that if he absolutely couldn't help it. I just…I don't want to let him down."

"What do you mean?"

Breaking her gaze with his through the mirror and fidgeting nervously, the young artist mumbled under her breath. "He called me his girl."

"Speak up there, Webber. I couldn't hear that."

"I said," she repeated, glowering at her friend and contemplating the merits of hurling her hairbrush at the guard, "he called me his girl."

"Well, it's about damn time Morgan made an honest woman out of you," Johnny teased, reclaiming his seat on the edge of her bed and leaning back on his elbows to get comfortable. Wiggling his eyebrows at her, he teased, "but I have to tell you, I never pegged you as the type to swoon over the whole caveman routine. 'Me your man; you my woman," he mocked, frowning and lowering his voice as he tried to impersonate the early form of the human race.

"It's not like that," Elizabeth argued. "Jason respects me. It was just his way of telling me that we're…together."

"And that's why it's important to you that you knock his socks off tonight," the Irish man realized, filling in the gaps for himself. "Don't tell me you're going to try to seduce him this evening, that this entire circus of finding the perfect dress was just so that you could get your groove on?" Her blush was the only answer he needed, and, in response, she saw him shudder. "Never before have I felt luckier to not have to work the night shift. I do, however, feel sorry for whatever poor schmuck is on door duty later."

"You don't have to be a pig about it, Lurch, especially since you and the other stooges have been pushing us together now for months."

No nodded in concurrence. "Point taken."

"And excuse me for being attracted to my boyfriend and wanting to show him how I feel," the brunette nanny continued as if he hadn't conceded. "I realize that most of you gun-toting, soft-hearted lugheads around here treat women as objects to be revered and admired from afar, but I'm not made of glass, I like sex, and I have needs of my own to fill. Men don't have that portion of the market market cornered all for themselves."

"Whoa, Webber, simmer down," the bodyguard urged her. "Haven't you ever heard of a little expression called TMI? I'll lay off teasing you about your relationship with Morgan if you promise to never, and when I say never I mean N-E-V-E-R, never talk to me about your needs again."

"Agreed."

"Now, I can't believe I'm going to say this, but can we please just talk about your dress again," Johnny asked of her. "It feels like the safe topic at this point."

Looking up from the vanity where she was getting ready," the younger woman asked, "do you think he'll like it?"

"Jason," he questioned rhetorically. "Well, for one thing, I can guarantee you he won't realize how much time and effort we put into picking out that dress. He won't know about how you went to the library and looked up old press photos to see what kind of dresses people wore to this shindig, he won't understand the very painful three hours we spent in the shoe store finding those breakneck hazards to your health that you call heels, and he definitely won't care about the fact that I was forced to have a pedicure at the salon this afternoon when you had your hair and nails done because Helga the Hungarian Hellcat wouldn't take no for answer and had a disturbing fetish for tickling bunions, but what I can tell you is that as soon as he sees you in that dress, to him you'll be the only woman in the room, and he'll have a hard time resisting his every urge to take it off of you the moment you're in his arms."

Chewing her bottom lip, Elizabeth looked up at her friend with watery eyes. "That was actually a pretty nice thing to say, O'Brien. I didn't know you had it in you."

"Don't expect it again anytime soon," he advised. "I have one compassionate, non-sarcastic moment every year, and I just gave it to you."

Teasing him, she quipped, "I feel honored."

"Seriously though, Webber, you look good."

"Thanks, Lurch." Standing up, the blue-eyed nanny made her way across the room towards the open doorway. "I'm going to go and get Michael up from his nap, so I can get him dressed for tonight. Will you do me a favor and try calling Jason again?"

"You know that he probably won't answer, don't you?"

"I do," she stated regretfully, "but we have to try anyway."

"Maybe I should just take a picture of you right now and text it to him," the guard suggested. "That should inspire him to remove the lead from his ass."

Elizabeth simply smiled at her older friend in amusement before turning and walking out the door. With her back to him, she playfully teased, "I can't believe I'm taking fashion advice and compliments from a man who wears shiny, jewel-toned suits. I think I should just skip the ball and go straight to the hospital and have myself admitted for a full mental exam and complete physical workup."

She heard him return her barb with a quick witted one of his own, but she paid him no mind, instead focusing on the task at hand. After all, if Jason was going to return in time to go to the benefit with her, she didn't want to keep him waiting.

"This was a bad idea," Elizabeth whispered to the three overly-protective men surrounding her. "Everyone's staring at me."

"Cue Carly Simon," Max quipped, earning himself a dark glare from the brunette nanny and two confused scowls from his coworkers. "Talk about being a little narcissistic there, Webber. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe they're staring at me?"

"Yes, because no one can take their eyes off of a chubby man dressed up as a penguin."

"Watch it, Donovan," the youngest of the three guards threatened his blonde friend. "We still haven't decided who gets perimeter duty yet."

"That's right, we haven't," Johnny agreed. "So why don't you haul your self-important butt outside and make sure the building's secure. Thanks for volunteering, Giambetti." As the leader of the trio watched his fellow employee stomp away grumbling under his breath, the blue eyed artist observed the entire spectacle with amusement written clearly across her face. "As for you," the Irish man stated, facing his young charge, "they might be staring at you, but it's not because you're doing anything wrong. You just stepped into the room with three heavy armed men at your side and a baby in your arms who not only has connections with one of the wealthiest families in upstate New York but also one of the most infamous. And just wait until Morgan shows up…."

"That's if he shows up," she corrected him. Looking between both men still standing before her, Elizabeth asked, "have either of you been able to get in touch with him?" Negatively, they shook their heads. "What about the pilot?"

"He hasn't filed a flight plan, but, in _the coffee business_ that's not unusual," Francis replied, the sympathy he felt for her evident in both his tone and countenance. "However, even if Jason doesn't make it, he would still want you to have fun. Go say high to your Grandmother," he suggested. "She's certainly been trying to get your attention since we walked through the doors, and, while you're socializing, I'll find our table and Johnny-boy here will be your stand-in escort."

"I will?"

"You helped her pick out her dress," the blonde bodyguard pointed out, "so that practically makes you her date already. Besides," he continued, "you're better at this whole mingling thing than I am anyway."

"You do have a point," the senior employee mused, rubbing his chin confidently. "Between the two of us, I do have the better personality, not to mention the fact that I'm unusually debonair with the ladies and, if I do say so myself, more handsome than you are."

"Now who's vain," Elizabeth teased, wrapping her free arm through the Irish man's and leading him off in the direction of her Grandmother. "We'll see you in a few, Francis."

"Just so I'm prepared," Johnny asked his young charge, "how mad is your Grandmother going to be that I'm here with you?"

"Why, Lurch, are you afraid of my little, old, frail, and timid Grams?"

"She might qualify for the special birthday's segment on the _Today _show, but there is nothing frail or timid about Audrey Hardy."

"I wouldn't say that to her face," the petite artist instructed. "She's not too fond of Willard Scott."

"Good to note, but that still doesn't answer my question." Lowering his voice because of their close proximity to the woman in question, Johnny pressed, "should I have worn a cup?"

She couldn't help it; Elizabeth giggled, both accomplishing the guard's goal of relaxing her and making her Grandmother frown in her direction. "Don't worry, O'Brien. Grams isn't a sticks and stones type of girl; she'll just lash you with her forked tongue."

"That's what I was afraid of."

Before the brunette nanny could retort again, Audrey interrupted their conversation. "Hello, Dear. I see you brought your work with you…again. Didn't you think this was a prestigious enough event to leave the criminals at home tonight?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Johnny, Francis and Max are security experts, Gram, nothing more, nothing less."

"Perhaps it's the reason Mr. Morgan feels it's necessary to employ security personnel which makes their presence so unsavory. Speaking of Mr. Morgan," the older nurse pressed, either ignoring the flash of hurt that clouded her granddaughter's face or simply not noticing it, "where is he?"

"Mr. Morgan is running late," Johnny spoke up for the first time. His answer was concise and to the point, and his stance, rigid back, hands folded in front of his body, and chin lowered slightly in deference, screamed reticence.

"Well, maybe we'll be lucky enough this year and he won't even show up."

"Now, Audrey," a friendly redhead playfully chastised as she walked up and joined the group, "play nice. Jason's not so bad, and, no matter what, you know as well as I do that he'll pledge a generous donation, and tonight's about putting our differences aside and raising money for a good cause, not continuing tired grudges." Smiling warmly, she turned and held out a hand towards Elizabeth. "Hi, I'm Bobbie Spencer, Michael's Grandma." Elizabeth's face scrunched in puzzlement as she glanced between her young ward, her bodyguard, her grandmother, and the stranger standing before her. "I'm Carly's Mom."

"Oh, I'm sorry," the young artist immediately apologized. "I didn't realize… It's nice to meet you. I'm Elizabeth Webber, Michael's nanny."

"I know. Jason's told me so much about you already." With another bewildered expression from the blue eyed brunette, the red head continued. "He brings Michael over to see me on your days off."

"That's ridiculous. He's your grandson; you should be able to see him whenever you want. Please," the college student offered, "stop by at the penthouse anytime to visit. You're always welcome there."

"I didn't realize it was so easy to get into Fort Knox," Audrey quipped, earning an icy glare from her granddaughter.

"If you're a wanted guest," the Irish guard spoke up, his words pleasant in tone but containing an underlying inhospitable meaning, "then we bend over backwards to make you feel comfortable and wanted."

"If you'll excuse me," the younger of the two nurses spoke up sensing the tension between her coworker and the young nanny, "I just saw someone I need to speak with. It was a pleasure to meet you, Elizabeth."

"Likewise, Miss Spencer."

"Please," the red head asked of her, "call me Bobbie."

The brunette art student simply nodded in acquiesce before facing her grandmother once again. "I really wish you wouldn't attack and insult my friends, especially in front of other people."

"Well I really wish that you wouldn't flaunt your association with Mr. Morgan and his men," Audrey countered. "Don't you realize what people are whispering about you behind your back because you came in here with three bodyguards and the heir apparent to the Port Charles mafia?"

"Alleged mafia," Elizabeth corrected, scowling daggers at the older woman.

Changing tactics, the older woman appraised her granddaughter's outfit. "And your dress, dear."

"What about it?"

"It's strapless."

"It's also June, Gram," the younger woman argued. "What, did you want me to wear something with sleeves?"

"That would have been more appropriate," the nurse countered, "especially with the cutout that shows your legs."

"Webber's got great stems," her guard and friend complimented. "It was my idea for her to show them off."

"You have no idea how much that explains." Turning to her granddaughter, Audrey continued. "Really, darling, I offered to help you find a dress…something that would have been more tasteful."

"There's nothing wrong with the way I look," Elizabeth maintained, standing up for herself. Squaring her back, she looked her grandmother in the eye. "Yes, it's strapless, but since when did it become a crime to show your shoulders? As for the cutaway that reveals my legs, it's my understanding that the host of this event always ends up in her underwear. Compared to that, I'm practically dressed conservatively."

"Perhaps in Mr. Morgan's circle, but in polite civilization …"

"Well, would you look at that," Johnny interrupted in an attempt to stave off another argument between the two slightly temperamental female family members. "I think Michael wants to go and visit poor, socially inept Francis over there. He looks lonely, doesn't he, sitting at that big table all by himself?"

"Oh, really, Mr. O'Brien," the medical professional inquired, "and how can you tell what a baby wants or does not want?"

"Mikey here is an excellent silent communicator."

"Why don't you take him over there then," Audrey suggested, "and leave my granddaughter here with me so that we can continue our discussion in private."

"Besides arguing the point that the Nurses Ball does not constitute a private environment, I'm afraid I can't do that, Mrs. Hardy, for three reasons."

"And they are?"

"Well, first of all, Webber and I, we're like Bert and Ernie, Bogie and Bacall, MJ and Nike; we can't be separated," the Irish guard explained. "In fact, I'm only leaving her side tonight when Jason gets here."

"That's if Mr. Morgan even bothers to show up," the older woman practically taunted.

Ignoring her, Johnny continued. "Secondly, wherever the kid goes, your granddaughter goes, too, because she's the only one who can keep him this calm. And, finally, this is a rented tux. There's no way I can run the risk of getting baby spit up on it."

Pursing her lips in dislike, the nurse remarked, "classy."

"Grams, that's enough," Elizabeth finally exploded. "The show's going to start soon, so we need to get to our table. Enjoy your evening."

Without another word, the young nanny twirled around on her heels and sauntered away with a jaunty, proud tilt to her upturned face. She didn't need to look to know that the bodyguard was following her; he always would, and the knowledge of his staunchly loyal nature and constant friendship made her relax as she tried to enjoy the party she had been looking forward to for so long. Even Michael seemed to sense the tension leaving her body and stopped squirming in her arms. There was only one problem: Jason still wasn't there, and her hope that he would make it was quickly disappearing.

"Quartermaines narrowing in like a pack of mangy dogs at seven o'clock," Max announced before promptly shoving the entire hors d'oeuvre he was holding into his mouth and chewing loudly.

Offering up his services, the oldest of the three guards set his flute of champagne onto the table and stood up. "I'll run interference, try to distract them," he proposed, "but the two of you should get Webber up and moving around the room. Make it harder for them to spot and corner her again. With Michael in her arms, sleeping, they're not going to give up on seeing and talking to her until the intermission is over."

With that said, Francis left and the other two men pushed back their chairs, climbed to their feet, and helped their friend and charge stand as well. "Let's hit the dessert buffet," the Italian guard suggested hopefully.

"Jesus, Giambetti," Johnny chuckled, "if you don't slow down, we're going to have to cut you out of that tuxedo. You already polished off your own meal and picked at Webber's leftovers, not to mention made a pretty big dent in the appetizers being offered up, but I know for a fact that you also had a steak dinner before you left your apartment this evening to pick us up at the Towers."

"How do you know that?!"

"Donovan told me," the Irish man replied flippantly.

"Well, for your information, I have a fast metabolism," Max defended himself and his large appetite. "Plus, my Mom always tells me that I should eat whenever I feel hungry, because I'm still growing."

"Yeah, thicker."

"Alright, alright," Elizabeth stepped in between them while stifling her laughter. "You two are worse than a married couple." Looking at the youngest bodyguard, she reassured him. "Don't listen to Johnny, Max. He's just jealous of your…refined palate. And, as for you, Mr. Hypercritical," she chastised the senior guard, facing him "don't think that I didn't see your pit stop at the dessert table on your way back from the bathroom a few minutes ago."

"If you're always this observant, maybe you should be the one guarding us."

"You wish, O'Brien," the young artist quipped, tossing her comment over her bare shoulder as she walked away from the table, "but, for now, you're going to have settle with me leading you around on a tight leash and playing referee, and, as your referee, I've decided that we're going to let Max get his dessert and then, afterwards, the two of you are going to join me on the dance floor."

"Oh, I don't know about that," the heftier of the two men shied away.

"Oh, come on, Max," she cajoled pleadingly. If paying attention, the petite nanny would have realized the guard was looking over the top of her head and not directly at her. "You know what they say - it's better to make a fool out of yourself than it is to be a wallflower."

"Not if your job effectiveness depends upon your ability to be intimidating," the Italian man responded. Before she could reply, he left their small group and disappeared into the crowd.

"What about you, Lurch," she propositioned the only remaining bodyguard with a smile that didn't quite reach her dim and depressed blue eyes, "care to embarrass yourself for a few minutes? I know Michael's sleeping in my arms, but I can still sway to the music, and when are you going to get another opportunity to step on my toes and not suffer any retaliation?"

"Can't," Johnny's answer came quickly. This time Elizabeth did notice that he was looking past her at something and not at her. "I…um…have to go to the bathroom."

"But you just got back?"

"Nature calls, Webber."

"Hey," she protested, "what happened to your pronouncement that for the evening we're practically Siamese twins?"

"Change of plans," he answered before turning around and, following Max's example, disappearing into the throng of other guests milling around the ballroom.

Looking down at the sleeping baby in her arms, the brunette nanny complained, "well, that was just rude." Deciding she was going to dance anyway even if she was all by herself, she moved to step forward, looking up from her infant ward and directly across the room into the smoldering, crystal blue gaze of one very late, very handsome, and very kissable Jason Morgan.

His tux was slightly rumpled as if he had changed into it at the last minute while still on his way to the party, his hair was disheveled and practically begged for her fingers to run their way through it, not in an effort to tame the wild, golden locks but simply because she had missed the feeling of it running swiftly through her grasp, and his face was covered in a fine, blonde stubble, obviously unshaved since the day before. In one word to Elizabeth, he looked delicious, and, before she knew what she was doing, her grip on Michael tightened, and she was running into his open arms, ignoring the curious and plainly disapproving stares around them, and warmly welcoming him home with a very affectionate kiss.

Pulling away slightly breathless, Jason let his forehead rest against hers. With his eyes closed in delight, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

"For what," she asked, her voice deep with unexpressed passion. "You're here with me like you promised, and you're safe. As far as I'm concerned, there's only one thing you could do to make this night even better."

"What's that?"

"Take me home," Elizabeth requested. Suddenly, the dull sheen of unshed tears haunting her bottomless blue eyes all evening had been replaced with a mischievous and sensual sparkle. She could tell her plea had surprised him, but it had definitely been a good surprise.

With a slow, seductive smirk, Jason agreed, "sure. Just let me hand in my check, and then we'll go home."

"I'll go gather up the boys," she offered, moving to step away, but his outstretched hand stopped her.

"Just in case I forget to tell you later," he lowered his head to nuzzle it into the silky, exposed skin of her neck, ignoring everything and everyone around them, to whisper, "you look beautiful, Elizabeth."

Her response was spoken just as softly. "Thank you."

Without another word, they parted, Jason to seek out Lucy while she found the three bodyguards to tell them that they were ready to leave. Five minutes later, as the group of six, a man and woman obviously dating, three boys disguised as adult members of society, and a baby, left the ballroom, the donation of a million dollars presented on the behalf of Elizabeth Webber and Michael Morgan was announced to a room full of gossiping partygoers. The gesture would prove to serve two purposes.

Not only did it let Elizabeth know how much she meant to the man in her life, but it also, unintentionally, gave the town of Port Charles just one more reason to be secretly fascinated with the lives of the people hidden away high atop Harborview Towers, but, hey, life wasn't perfect. After all, you win some and you lose some, and understanding the depth of Jason's feelings for her more than made up for the scandal their revealed relationship had proven to be for the other guests at the ball. In her opinion, the night had been a wonderful success…that was only going to get better.

She felt the rough flesh of his fingertips whispering across her back as he reached for the zipper hidden out of sight on the gathered bodice of her delicate dress. Leaning back against him, Elizabeth rested her supple form against him, savoring the sensation of her silk gown as it fluttered against her bare form and fell, like liquid, to the carpeted floor of the penthouse's master bedroom. Her entire being felt on fire as Jason took his time arousing her. Letting her eyes drift shut in ecstasy with the feeling of his ministrations on her body, the young artist existed solely on passionate awareness.

In the back of her mind, she knew that they were essentially alone. After a long night at the ball, Michael was fast asleep in his room and wouldn't wake for many hours, and Jason had practically commanded the guards away for the rest of the evening, tightening security in the lobby of the building but sending home the man who was supposed to be posted on the penthouse door. So, without worry of being interrupted, she let herself enjoy what his talented digits were doing to her vulnerable form.

The carpet under her cushioned her tired feet which were still encased in the silver, t-strap heels she had worn that evening, the cool breeze blowing in from the harbor and billowing the sheer curtains on the balcony doors caressed her burning skin in what she could only describe as the adoring embrace of nature, and Jason's insatiable palms massaged her body, starting at her baby-soft shoulders, inching lower over her quivering décolleté still hidden from his view by the strapless, ivory bra she wore, over her taunt, shivering abdomen, and unto the honeyed, smooth expanse of her thighs, memorizing it as only a lover could. He surrounded her.

The feel of his hands haunted her entire body as she silently begged for his touch to be everywhere on her at once. The taste of his mouth was still present on her lips and, when desperate to experience him again, she would let her tongue run over her lips and savor him the only way she could until he finally returning his mouth to hers. The smell of his purely masculine form assaulted her mind and body, enveloping her into a world where only the two of them existed. The sound of his deep, aroused breathing was music to her ears, and, when she strained her willpower and focused upon her surroundings, she realized her own ragged and desperate breathing matched his. The sight of his arms holding her pulsating form tightly to him sent butterflies of promise deep into her core. Despite the fact that she wanted to return the favor and awaken every one of his senses as well, Jason held her secure and wouldn't let go, continuing his attentions and ignoring her very few moans of protest that managed to escape between the whimpers and mews of pleasure and desire.

Finally, when it felt as if she could not last another moment longer without crying out for more or begging him to stop, the actions of his brilliant fingers too torturous to bear, his mouth descended upon her shoulder and started to follow its own sensual path down the exposed length of her naked back. As his lips drugged her relaxed form into a state of numb, sheer bliss, his hands continued to tease her until they, finally, slipped underneath the waistband of her matching thong panties and freed her of their constraints. Feeling the silk sliding down her legs, Elizabeth opened her gaze to watch the thin scrap of material pool at her feet, but, instead of the embarrassment or even shyness she had expected to feel when so exposed in front of Jason, all she felt was an overwhelming desire to be with him and a sense of contentedness.

With only her strapless bra and heels on, she felt him drop a chaste, almost innocent kiss onto the small of he back before gliding his still fully dressed form up her body, letting her feel the exact effect she had upon him, while, at the same time, turning her around in his arms and capturing her parted lips in a searing, provocative, time-stopping embrace. As his tongue entered the sizzling recesses of her mouth, dueling, struggling, mating with her own, his hands slipped down to unfasten the final article she wore, leaving her completely nude to his appreciative gaze.

Stumbling backwards, she pulled Jason after her as they hastily made their way towards his king sized, luxurious bed. Finally capable of undressing him, the diminutive brunette made quick work of pushing his tuxedo jacket off of his shoulders, loosening and removing his tie, and unbuttoning his crisp, white dress shirt. By the time her back hit the silk sheets of the bed, only his lower body was still dressed, and, together, they worked to rid him of his pants; she unfastened his black trousers while he kicked off his shoes and socks.

With only his boxer-briefs left on, he blanketed her body, the hair of his legs hinting of their intimacy as it brushed up against her as their limbs became tangled, the hard, golden planes of his stomach stroked over top of the alabaster velvet of her abdomen, his sculpted chest brushed and tantalized even more life into her already painfully stimulated nipples, and his arms rested on either side of her head, virtually trapping her underneath his body exactly where the both of them wanted her.

For several moments, the new lovers simply stared into each others eyes, his intense, ice blue gaze locked on her deep, sapphire one. Silently, they communicated to each other everything they needed and desired from the other, and words became superfluous. Dipping his head down to capture her mouth with his, Jason sipped from her slowly like he was savoring a fine wine, and she luxuriated in his touch. In the same breath, he was sweet yet ardent, gentle yet demanding, everything she had dreamt of.

As their lips waltzed together to a melody known only to lovers, Elizabeth was surprised when he suddenly switched their positions. Straddling him, she was, at once, in control. Although the feeling was unique for her, it was also dangerously seductive, and she, immediately, enjoyed the power it granted her. Leaning over him, she let her mouth trail a sumptuous path down his body, starting at his neck where she sucked his pulse point, bit his bobbing Adam's apple, and then soothed the sting with a sweet lick of her tongue against the bite mark and traveling across his chest where she paid extra attention to his nipples and down onto his rigid, washboard stomach, stopping only when she encountered the waistband of his underwear. Dipping her fingers into the cloth barrier, Elizabeth stood up on her knees and, finally, finished undressing the otherwise naked man before her, tossing the boxer-briefs away, and lowering her body on top of his once again.

His mouth instantaneously sought out hers as soon as her form was flush against his again, but, instead of the tender embraces from before, their fervor had increased and, with it, their kisses became aggressive, insistent, and completely intoxicating and addictive. While their tongues danced with each others, his hands teased and massaged her breasts, worshipping the plump mounds, while she let her nails run up and down his torso, leaving red streaks in their path as evidence of her eagerness and zeal. She could feel his arousal against her thighs, and it only seemed to increase her passion and impatience.

Unable to take the cruel torture of foreplay any longer, Elizabeth took matters into her own hands, breaking their embrace and lifting herself over Jason's quivering body and lowering herself on top of him. Her advance had been unexpected, abrupt, and impulsive, and, as she felt him surge inside of her, she knew he not only appreciated the sudden assault but had been thirsting for it as well.

At first, their pace was leisurely, slow and sensual, but, as their passion gave away to desire and then progressed into lust and obsession, it increased until the point where no other idea was conscious in her mind except for thoughts about the man beneath her. While her body could feel his hands guiding and helping her lift her hips and his mouth upon her heaving breasts, Elizabeth's brain could not fathom anything but the pleasure spreading through her withering and throbbing form. Jason was everywhere. He was inside her body, wrapped around her, invading her mind, her heart, and her soul, but she still wanted him closer.

Wrapping her arms around his sweaty back, she pulled him into a sitting position and held him against her, crushing her chest to his, seeking his lips with her own, and running her fingers through his damp and uncontrollable hair. Just as she thought she would faint from the sheer power of the feelings of delight and ecstasy wracking her petite frame, her orgasm was upon her, sending her into a total and utter oblivion of bliss. Nothing in her life before had prepared her for that moment, but, as the first and only tear of wonder and joy slipped from her tightly clenched eyes, she realized that the newness of her feelings was a part of their charm, that it added to their bloom of beauty. Opening her gaze and locking eyes with Jason told her that he had just experienced something as glorious as she had, and that just made the sensation of complete contentedness even more powerful. To know that they could give that peace and exhilaration to each other made Elizabeth realize what loving someone actually meant.

Still lost in the pleasure of her release, she melted into his embrace as Jason wrapped his arms tightly around her body and laid them down together on the bed. On his back, he held her against his side, her free hand on his heart while her head rested in the niche between his neck and shoulder which seemed made exactly for her. Turning her face into his body, she placed a sweet, gentle kiss against his jaw line, breathing in his essence before relaxing entirely and letting her eyes drift shut again.

For several minutes they laid there, neither feeling the need to talk, and savored the silence together. As their heart rates steadied into a normal pace and their breathing slowed down, Elizabeth could feel Jason's hand whispering back and forth and up and down her naked, sultry, steamy back, occasionally dipping down to tickle the exposed, velvety flesh of her derrière. Sleep came easily to the two of them that evening, and, as she slipped into a state of satisfied slumber, Elizabeth realized that from that point on, if she wanted to, she would be able to fall asleep in Jason Morgan's arms every evening. The thought was both liberating and astonishing at the same time, but, more importantly, it made her feel safe, it made her feel cherished, and it made her feel loved, and she hoped that her presence in his arms made him feel the same way.

A/N2: For those of you who enjoy physical representations of important dresses, her is the gown I picked out for Elizabeth. Now, remember that this Elizabeth is rather independent, high-spirited, and confident...not to mention she's out to catch Jason's eye.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

There was nothing sexier, Elizabeth Webber decided, than a man taking care of his baby. As she lounged in Jason's bed the morning after their very first _night_ together, she pretended to sleep while secretly observing the father and son pair, pushing aside her urges to show him just how attractive she found him and settling for a quiet moment or several with the two most important people in her life.

Michael had started fussing twenty minutes earlier, but, before she could get up and go to him, Jason was already up and throwing on his boxers, leaving her to rest while he took care of his son. While she had remained in bed contemplating whether or not she should get up and join them in the nursery, they had, apparently, gone to the kitchen to make coffee and mix formula, because, moments later, they returned to the bedroom laden down with the little boy's breakfast and liquid energy, one cup sweetened with ample sugar, for the two adults. He had fed the baby his bottle, the pair simply watching each other in silence while Michael ate, and, despite wanting to be a part of their moment, Elizabeth had refrained from alerting them to her conscious state, instead savoring the vision they made. She had watched surreptitiously, keeping her long lashes downcast and her sleep relaxed form still, and, when Jason started talking to his son, her efforts had paid off.

"We're going to let her sleep in this morning, because she doesn't get to do that very often between having to take care of you and putting up with the guards, but I was thinking that maybe I'd…not work today, that I'd take the day off. I haven't seen you that much recently, and I thought the three of us could spend the day together. We could go to the park or to the lake. Whatever we do, we'll let Elizabeth decide…eventually, after she has her morning dose of chocolate."

Smiling to herself, she sat up in bed and leaned across the small space between them, placing a chaste but lingering kiss on Jason's stubble covered cheek. "Don't mock it, Morgan. Even super heroes have their one weakness, and chocolate just happens to be my kryptonite. Besides, it's not like you have room to talk." Nodding her head towards his bedside table, she queried, "is that your first cup of coffee this morning, or did you already gulp down a steaming mug full while you were making Michael's bottle?"

He surprised her. Instead of answering right away, he lifted his free hand to her chin and playfully pulled her face towards his, locking their lips together and giving her a proper morning after kiss. "You're in a good mood this morning."

Shrugging the brunette responded, "I slept well last night." As she reached across his body for her own cup of java which had been sweetened beyond recognition, Elizabeth noticed his quirked eyebrow. "Okay, so in between our other nocturnal activities, I slept well in the few hours of respite I was granted."

"I didn't hear you complaining when I woke you up."

"Nor will you ever." After taking a sip of the hot beverage, she continued. "Please, feel free to wake me up like…that…anytime you want you."

"I'll keep that in mind," the mafia boss stated. "However, you're not as good as you think you are, Webber."

"Are you insulting my skills in the…."

"You're not going to distract me that easily," Jason continued as if she hadn't interrupted him. "Like I said, you're in a good mood, but you're never this happy after first getting up. Were you pretending to sleep while I was feeding Michael?"

Feigning innocence, she asked, "would I do that?"

"Yes."

Giggling, Elizabeth changed the subject. "So, what do you want to do today?"

"Well, I don't know," the blonde mused. He was looking down at Michael and letting the baby wrap his tiny fist around one of his much larger fingers, so she couldn't see his face. "I was thinking about changing the oil on my bike."

"That sounds cool," she agreed to accompany him without actually saying so. "Michael and I can watch you while you work and keep you company."

"You mean distracted?"

"Yep, that, too." Sliding closer to him in bed and allowing him to wrap his right arm around her shoulder and hold her to him, the artist pushed. "What else did you have in mind?"

"I should get in touch with all the men, check up on things to make sure everything ran smoothly while I was gone."

"Wouldn't Johnny have told you if something was wrong last night," she questioned.

Jason shook his head in rejection of her idea. "Not necessarily, and, whether I like it or not, I am the boss, and that's just something I have to do."

"And after you get that out of the way?"

"It'll probably be late by then," the father recognized, sounding disheartened by the realization. "I might be able to make it back in time for dinner and to help you tuck Michael into bed though."

"Morgan!" Scampering out of his arms, Elizabeth, forgetting her state of undress, stood up on the bed, fisted her hands on her hips, and glared at her boyfriend. "You're teasing me!"

"About what?" While his face showed no emotion, his eyes were twinkling with mischief and humor.

"You know what," the petite brunette countered. "You told Michael that we'd all spend the day together, and that I'd get to choose what we'd do."

"So you were eavesdropping while pretending to sleep," he questioned.

Stomping her foot, Elizabeth yelled, "Jason!"

"And now you're trying to break my bed as well." Smirking at her gloriously nude form and impassioned countenance, the coffee importer wondered out loud. "Do you have something against furniture?"

"You're impossible," she huffed, jumping off the bed and reaching for a sheet to wrap around her body, but, before she could succeed, he was standing behind her, Michael happily playing with his feet while lying on the bed, grabbing the sheet from her hand and tossing it aside, and pulling her into his body to embrace her.

"And you're not going anywhere."

"Oh really?"

"Really."

Melting quickly, she tightened his arms around her and tilted her head to the side to kiss his bicep. Good-naturedly, Elizabeth asked, "and why's that?"

"Because you have to stay up here with Michael while I go back down to the kitchen to find you some breakfast."

Laughing, the impish pixy of a woman taunted him. "And you're going to cook?"

"No," Jason answered quickly. "I'm going to send Johnny out for some of your favorite donuts and wait around downstairs until he's back so he doesn't get the bright idea to let himself in to hand deliver the food to you. Once I have the donuts, I'll pour you some chocolate milk and join you again as soon as I can."

"Should I get dressed while you're gone," she wanted to know.

"I'd rather you didn't. Just get back into bed and wait for me there. When I come back," he suggested, "we'll talk about what you want to do today."

"It's a date," the art student promised with a wide, content smile lighting up her glowing face. Turning around in his arms, she kissed his jaw before continuing. "But I'm going to need a few hours to myself this morning."

"Why? Is something wrong?"

"Nope – I just need to go to the hospital," Elizabeth revealed. The calm expression left his face, and she could tell that he would need to know more. "Don't worry, it's nothing bad," she reassured him. "I just want to make sure that, in the future, we're protected. We didn't use anything, and that's okay, because nothing could have happened, trust me, but I should see my gynecologist and get a prescription for birth control right away so I don't forget. After all, I don't think what happened last night is going to be a one time thing."

"Definitely not." Swallowing thickly, he asked, "do you want me to…come with you?"

Sincerely, she responded, "thank you, but that's not necessary. I'll only be gone for a little while, and, while I am, you and Michael can have some male bonding time. It means a lot to me though to know that you offered, but I can't let you go with me." With a wink, she teased, "could you imagine how bad it would be for your reputation if it got out that Jason Morgan went with his girlfriend to her gynecologist?"

Chuckling, he conceded to her. "You do have a point."

Once again, Elizabeth kissed him, but, by standing up on her toes, she made the clinch deeper and more passionate. Grinning when their lips separated, she ordered, "now go get me my breakfast."

She pulled away from his arms and walked back towards the bed, ignoring him. She had almost made it before she felt him pertly slap her bare derrière. As he left the bedroom, he tossed over his shoulder, "bossy," leaving her in a fit of joyous mirth while she slipped under the sheets and started to play with Michael, realizing that with Jason and his son around, she could definitely become more of a morning person.

"Just have that prescription filled," Doctor Meadows instructed her, "and, unless you notice any unusual side effects, I'll see again for your yearly checkup."

Smiling at the doctor, she replied, "I will and thank you."

"Goodbye Elizabeth."

With a wave as her farewell, the young student went to leave and promptly bumped into a hovering older woman. "Excuse me," she offered, but still the strange lady did not step aside or let her pass. "Can I help you with something?"

"I'm sorry," the blonde responded with a smile, "I'm Monica Quartermaine, Jason's Mom. After the Nurses Ball last night I was wondering when I'd get a chance to introduce myself to my son's…."

Sensing that the physician wanted to know what role she filled in Jason's life, Elizabeth, with a sigh, obliged. "We're dating, and I'm Michael's nanny."

"Is that how the two of you met?"

"I'm sorry, Doctor Quartermaine, but I don't think that's any of your business, and, to be frank, I don't feel comfortable discussing my relationship with you."

"Of course," the older woman readily agreed. "That's perfectly understandable, but I must admit that I can see why you and Jason get along so well. You have similar personalities."

Attempting to walk away, the brunette mumbled under her breath, "whatever you say," but, regrettably, she was not quick enough, and Monica simply followed her as she moved along the hospital corridor towards the nurses' station and the elevators that would allow her to escape and get back to the two people patiently waiting for her in the park.

"I thought maybe we could have lunch sometime," the cardiologist suggested. "I could get to know you better, and you could ask me what Jason was like when he was a child."

"Look," Elizabeth stated, raising her voice and making the polite, fake smile fall from the blonde's face, "we're not going to be friends. I realize that you think I'm your in to Jason, but it's not going to work. I don't want to have lunch with you, I don't want you to know who I am, and, to be honest, I really don't care what Jason was like when he was kid, especially since he can't even remember his life then. If you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be."

"Just one second," the physician stopped her. "Why were you coming out of Doctor Meadow's office? Are you pregnant?"

"Oh my god," a third voice exclaimed as they joined them. "You and Jason are having a baby, but Michael's not even a year old yet!"

"Hello, Miss Spencer," the brunette artist greeted the nurse who just so happened to be her charge's Grandmother. "It's nice to see you again."

"Bobbie, please," she insisted for the second time. "And it's lovely to see you again, too, but what's this about a pregnancy? I don't even want to be there when Carly finds out."

"She left town, abandoning her son and forcing mine to care for Michael on his own," Monica said harshly. "I really don't think she should have a say in this. Besides, Elizabeth and Jason having a baby would be good news. You saw her last night, she's wonderful with him, and we all know how easily Jason has taken to fatherhood."

"Yes, but Carly doesn't even know that he's involved with someone else."

"And whose fault is that," the senior staff member wanted to know, glaring at her friend and coworker.

"That's enough," the youngest of the three women exploded, glancing between the blonde and the redhead with cold, angry, blue eyes. "It doesn't matter what the two of you think and it doesn't matter how Carly will react, because there's nothing to react to. I'm not pregnant."

"Well, I should surely hope not," Audrey pronounced, pursing her lips and folding her arms over her chest as she came to stand in front of her granddaughter. "Now, I'm not blind. I saw that inappropriate display of affection you and Mr. Morgan shared last night, but I know that you're sensible enough not to get too deeply involved with a career criminal."

"That is my son you're talking about there," the cardiologist warned. "I don't appreciate you disparaging against his character.

"I only speak the truth," the elderly nurse argued. "Now, dear, please tell these women what I already know, that you and Mr. Morgan are not," lowering her voice and glancing around to make sure that no one was prying into their conversation, she continued, "sleeping together."

"I can't." Observing the expressions around her, Elizabeth had to stifle a laugh at the pleased smirk gracing Doctor Quartermaine's face, the uncomfortable one on Bobbie's, and the utterly horrified and embarrassed one of her grandmother's. "I didn't want to tell you like this," she pressed with a rather apathetic shrug. "Hell, to be honest, I really didn't want to have this conversation with you at all, but, yes, we are together. We're seeing each other, we're dating, and I'm sleeping with him."

"You can't be serious, young lady," Audrey chastised her. "After everything that I've warned you against, you've thrown your future and your life away for a mob boss!"

Brazenly, she corrected the elderly woman. "Alleged mob boss. He's never been proven guilty of a single crime."

"I can't believe you! Do you have no respect for me or your parents? Are you determined to do everything you're told not to? Is this relationship with Mr. Morgan your latest form of rebellion?"

"Gram, stop it," the brunette artist screamed. "If my having sex with Jason was supposed to be a rebellion, then I would have to care about what you thought of me, but I don't! You stand there and you put your stuck up nose in the air and make up your mind about him, but have you ever taken the chance to get to know Jason? Of course not! You'd rather pass moral judgment on his character, believing what the papers and the corrupt police department have to say about him instead of actually trusting me and my feelings. Well, I'm sorry. I love you, Grandmother, but, right now, I don't respect you. I think it would be a good idea if we didn't see each other for a while, if we both took some time to cool off." Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she turned towards the two other women standing with them. "Bobbie, as I told you last night, you're always welcome at the penthouse. Please, drop by to see Michael anytime, and, Mrs. Quartermaine, I'd appreciate it if you would respect my wishes and not try to corner me again. Now, if you'll all excuse me, I have somewhere to be."

With her head held high, Elizabeth made her way towards the elevators and boarded the first available lift, ignoring the curious and meddlesome hospital employees as they stood watching her, transfixed after witnessing the very combustible scene that had just played out between her and three of the most respected women in all of Port Charles. Apparently, not only could she get used to life as Jason Morgan's girlfriend, but she was also going to give him a run for his money on his status as the most gossiped about member of the small, sleepy upstate New York community. The guards would be so proud…and sorely upset that they had missed her memorable performance.

Jason was reclined on a blanket when she found him in the park, relaxing and reading while an at ease Michael slept peacefully on his chest, the little boy's hand grasping his father's t-shirt. Seeing the two of them together, so content, made her smile as she slowly made her way towards the shade tree they were resting under and lowered her petite form down beside them.

"Hey," he greeted her, setting his book aside and forgetting to mark his place. "Come here," he urged, opening up his free arm for her to scoot in closer and lay down beside him. "You look upset. What's wrong?"

She was surprised that he could tell. After all, she had been trying to mask her annoyance so as not to ruin their afternoon together. "How can you tell?"

"I always can," the blonde replied easily, placing a gentle, soothing, reassuring kiss against her brow. "When you're upset, your eyes don't smile."

"I just…I think we're going to have to switch hospitals. I'm sure there's an equally talented pediatrician at Mercy, and, as long as I get some privacy, I don't care who my doctor is."

Attempting to draw an explanation out of her, Jason prompted, "did you run into someone while you were at your appointment?"

"Try three nosey someones and then, eventually, an entire floor of hospital employees from doctors to nurses to volunteers to janitors." Sighing dejectedly, the young artist lowered her voice. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I was trying to stay aloof so I wouldn't tell them anything that's none of their business, and I was doing a good job until…"

"Wait," he interrupted her, "who were asking you questions?"

"Monica Quartermaine was the first one to corner me," she revealed, glaring into the afternoon sun with just the memory of the older woman. "I swear, she was waiting for me, and, as soon as I stepped out of Doctor Meadows' office, she was right there, in my face, offering me a fake smile, a kind, manipulative word, and an invitation to lunch. She wanted us to become friends, and, after I nipped that ridiculous idea in the bud, it was time for the grand acquisition, and she started questioning me about a possible pregnancy."

"She did what," the once calm crime boss asked rhetorically, his good mood leaving quickly to be replaced with tension and annoyance.

"Oh, it gets better than that," Elizabeth reassured him. "Bobbie Spencer overheard the tail end of our conversation, insinuated herself into it, and started worrying about how the baby I was supposedly expecting would upset Carly. Then Monica started to ridicule Carly, and, before I could set them both straight, my Grandmother joins the discussion and just goes off on you."

Evidently, that amused him. "I can only imagine how well that went over. So, is Mrs. Hardy completing her shift or was she forced to check herself in as a patient once you were finished with her?"

"When I left, she was still standing, but, after my rant where I accidentally announced it to the whole hospital floor that we were sleeping together, she might be having heart palpitations." Before he could say anything to reassure her or ask another question, the brunette continued. "That's what I'm sorry about. I know you like to keep your private life just that, and I agree with you completely. It's no one's business but our own what happens between us, but you have no idea how mad my Gram made me, and, by the time I realized what I was doing, it was too late. I was off and running…as was my mouth…and there was no stopping me until I had said my peace."

"It's okay," he reassured her while running his fingers through her long, dark tresses. She could tell that, in part, his movements were a way to calm her, but he also seemed in need of a way to constantly touch her – not that she was complaining. "Would I have ever told anyone about us myself, no, but I don't care if people know that we're together. Other than that, how did your appointment go?"

"Good, and I filled my prescription before leaving the hospital, so I'm yours for the rest of the day…and night."

She could feel the rumble of his silent laughter moving through his chest as he tightened his grip upon her hip, pulled her closer, and let his hand dip further down her body to possessively cup her bottom. "Then relax," Jason instructed. "Michael's going to be out for a while, and there's no reason why you shouldn't take a nap, too. When you both wake up later, we'll head home, give Michael his bath, order in some dinner, and just…spend some time together."

"And what about bed," she found herself asking. Though her voice was soft with exhaustion, her tone held a firmness that demanded an answer.

"What do you mean?"

"Will we be going to bed separately tonight, or are we going to share one again?"

"Oh, we're sharing," he reassured her, tipping her face up to press a searing, promising kiss to her plump lips, "definitely sharing. I don't care what bed we use, yours or mine, but, from now on, whatever bed you're in, I will be, too."

Embracing him again, she let their mouths linger together for a moment longer than either of them had intended only to withdraw enough to curl herself back into his side and strong hold. "Okay." Just like that, with one playful yet serious remark, he had managed to reassure her not only about their relationship but also her place in her life, and, with that guarantee, Elizabeth fell easily to sleep knowing that when she woke up, the two men in her life would be waiting there beside her. She had never felt so confident or cared for.

There was something surreal about getting ready for bed with another person in the room. Sure, as a child, Elizabeth had shared a bathroom with her older sister, but that was simply annoying and even frustrating at times, but being with Jason, washing her face and brushing her teeth while he showered in the stall beside her, and getting undressed while he openly and covetously watched her sent a thrill of exhilaration through her body. They would communicate through promising glances, looks passing between them that assured the other of both their feelings and the events that would come as soon as they were in bed together.

He would find discreet ways to touch her – brushing aside the curly brown hair hanging loosely down her back and dropping a kiss upon her bare shoulders, hooking a teasing finger in the waistband of her boyshorts and tugging her form against his, and wiping away the excess foam of her toothpaste with the rough, work hardened pads of his thumbs. And she would gladly return his gestures of intimacy.

When he would pass behind her in nothing but a low-slung towel, she would playfully try to pull the terry cloth material away. After she was finished and he was taking his turn to brush his teeth, she stood behind him and trailed her lips up his spine, starting at the dimpled hollow on the small of his back and working her way up to his broad, strong shoulders, tasting him and previewing what they would share in a matter of minutes. As they made their way into the bedroom, she raced him, letting him win so that, once he was lounged on the bed, she could pounce on top of his body and pretend to hold him down.

They playfully wrestled, Jason allowing her to pin him against the sheets before turning the tables and returning the favor, tickling her in the process. Her laughter filled the air, piercing the silence of the penthouse and bathing it in a warmth the space had never experienced before. Her presence seemed to make the house a home, but neither of them realized the differences their relationship was weaving throughout their lives; instead, they were simply living in the moment, as only new lovers can do.

The lighthearted nature quickly disappeared to be replaced by a sensual, passionate awareness. Gone were the mischievous touches and the teasing looks, and replacing them were sultry perusals and arousing caresses. Their clothes rapidly started to disappear, being cast aside with no concern and a wild abandon, their mouths joined together in a decadent embrace, and, just as they were about to make love for the second night in a row, the phone rang, interrupting them.

Groaning, Elizabeth tried to hold onto him even tighter, refusing to let him go. "Do you have to?"

"Stay here," Jason almost pleaded. "I'll make it as quick as possible."

Sitting up in bed, she watched his naked form sash shay across the bedroom, the tight, corded muscles of his fit body tempting her to leave her position and chase after him. He lifted the phone, said hello, and waited for a response, but, without another word, she watched him put the phone back in its cradle and slowly, almost tentatively make his way back towards her.

"Is something wrong?"

"Everything's fine," the mob boss reassured her, sliding back into bed and taking her, once again, into his arms. "And it's not important. You are," he stressed by kissing her.

The diminutive brunette believed him easily, and it wasn't as if he was lying to her. As for all Jason knew, everything was alright, but there was something about an unknown caller having access to his private line and then hanging up as soon as he picked up the phone that made him uneasy, but being with Elizabeth, holding her in his arms, and making love to her long into the night was just the distraction he needed to forget the mysterious person trying to make him notice them. It was the first mistake he had made since taking over the territory, and he didn't even realize it.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Just to let you know, after this chapter, we are officially half way through this fic, but, don't worry, there is still A LOT to happen. In fact, the drama is just getting started. ;) Enjoy!_

Charlynn

Chapter Twelve

'Strange things are happening,' Barbara Jean Spencer mused to herself as she stepped off the elevators at Harbor View Towers that balmy, picturesque August afternoon. She wasn't sure what she was more concerned about: the fact that she was now using a quote from an animated cartoon cowboy to describe her life or that there was no guard posted outside Penthouse II. Granted, she did not visit her grandson very often, but, compared to others in their sleepy little town, the middle aged nurse was a frequent guest at a home that did not open its doors to many, and never before had she not been greeted by the smiling face of Johnny O'Brien or the kind eyes of a lesser known guard.

Confused and slightly worried that something may have been wrong, she found herself immobile. Instead of knocking on the door to announce her presence, Bobbie stood there, head tilted to the side, thinking, looking for a clue as to why the man on duty was not at his post, and waiting. Waiting for what though, she wasn't sure. Preferably, a bodyguard would appear at any second only to grin sheepishly and apologize for having to slip off quickly to go to the bathroom or to take a phone call. Then, her sense of security could be restored, and her irrational worry for her grandson would be stifled.

She knew – _knew_ – that nothing was wrong. As a nurse, she would sense if it was a medical emergency, and, if it was anything else, she trusted Jason to always protect Michael no matter what, but, still, the surreal moment showed her just how much she and others got used to and took for granted the simple, reliable things in life, and, when they suddenly weren't there any longer, their absence had the ability to send lives into chaos or at least uncertainty.

Fanning her flushed face with her own hand, the medical professional realized a second thing that was amiss – the penthouse floor was abnormally warm. As a luxury apartment building, its heating and cooling system was top of the line, the air conditioning always set at the magical temperature few knew that made a person feel refreshed but never chilled. However, she would swear that there was no air conditioning on. Perhaps that was where the guard had gone – to fix the errant machine. After all, why not? Sonny's men and now Jason's always seemed practically sub-human, as if there a new species of man capable of looking good in a suit while performing even the most mundane task such as changing a tire, something Max himself had once done for her.

"Hey, Miss Spencer," a pleasant male voice, one she found as she swiveled around quickly to face the entrance of the penthouse to belong to the tall Irishman she had been looking for earlier. "Sorry for the Caribbean-esque temperatures we're experiencing here, but Webber gets too cold with the air conditioning on, so we turn it off for her."

Things just kept getting stranger, she thought to herself while taking in the guard's appearance. His suit jacket had been tossed aside, his tie removed, and his shirtsleeves had been rolled up passed his elbows. He looked relaxed, comfortable, and quite at home as he stepped out of his boss' apartment.

"Come on in," he motioned to her, holding the door open widely as he waited for her to pass through. "We were just finishing lunch, but, if you're hungry, there were leftovers, and I'm sure Jason and Elizabeth wouldn't mind heating some up for you."

"No thank you," the befuddled nurse replied quickly. "I already ate." With Johnny's curious expression as her prompt, she continued. "I just stopped by to see Michael. Is he up or is he taking a nap?"

"The little guy won't go down for his nap for a couple more hours. In fact," he laughed, shaking his head in amusement, "he's probably playing with Webber right now, while she makes Morgan do all the cleaning-up on his own. That's why I was skipping out so quickly – didn't want to get roped into helping. Ma used to make me wash the supper dishes every night when I was a kid. I hated it then, and I still do. Plus," he added as the two of them made their way down the wide hallway which led into the kitchen, "right after lunch seems to be one of their favorite times to have private, family moments, and, if nothing else, I know when I'm not wanted. I get my food, thanks to Webber's ability to humanize Jason and thaw his cold, spiteful heart, and then I sneak out as quickly as possible."

Suddenly worried that she had come at a bad time, Bobbie stopped in her tracks and looked behind her towards the entrance. "Perhaps I should come back another time. And call first," she added, "just to make sure that I'm not interrupting anything. Elizabeth was kind enough to offer me a standing invitation, but I don't want to take advantage of it."

"Nah," the cheerful bodyguard dismissed her concerns, "don't worry about it. The little guy would love to see you, and it'll give Jason and Elizabeth a chance to spend some alone time together."

"Don't they go out a lot? I mean…they are dating."

"They are," he conceded, "but they don't like to leave Michael with us that often," the guard said in reference to himself and his fellow armed coworkers. "If they go out, they usually take him with them, but that means they don't get to go out riding that often, and did you see that sky today – sunny, bright blue, and not a cloud in sight. It's a perfect day to take the bike out."

The redhead grinned. It was a surprised smile but also a genuine one. "Elizabeth likes his motorcycle?"

"Loves it," Johnny corrected her. "In fact, Morgan's always teasing her that she only dates him for his bike. In return, Sprout says it's not the only reason but that it's definitely high up on the list."

With another thought, her smile fell. "And Carly, did she like to go riding with him, too?"

"Are you kidding me," the genial Irishman chuckled. "She wouldn't even get within ten feet of the thing. Carly preferred the Towncars and seemed to get a kick out of ordering a driver around." He seemed to notice her crestfallen expression, because he softened the scorn in his voice. "But, yet again, I wasn't around all the time. Back then, Jason and I were just friends…coworkers. He wasn't my boss; I didn't spend half of my day with him, and you never know. Perhaps Carly was different when it was just the two of them. All I know is how she acted around me and the other guards, and, in front of us, she seemed to hate his motorcycle."

"Oh, it's fine, Mr. O'Brien," Bobbie reassured him. "You're probably right, too. I just barely know my daughter."

"Well, you just found out about her," he interrupted to point out. "It's hard to get to know someone when they skip town and cut off all lines of communication."

She nodded, accepting and agreeing with his statement. "I guess I was just trying to get a better idea of what her relationship was like with Jason. Sometimes, it's hard for me to picture them together."

"I think they were more friends than anything else."

"But Michael…"

"Things happen," Johnny smirked as they shared an understanding almost conspiratorial glance. "That doesn't mean your daughter and Morgan shared a great romance. He's happy now…with Elizabeth, and she's good for them, both of them," he whispered as they stepped into the kitchen. Continuing so that the two adults who were playfully having a water fight and the baby who was quite contentedly sitting in a partially filled sink, splashing himself wouldn't realize they were there, he added, "yes, biologically, Carly is Michael's mother, but she left him, Miss Spencer. It's been months, and no one has heard from her. Webber loves Michael; she loves Jason. He'd never say it and Michael can't talk yet, but I guarantee you that they both think of her as his Mom. That doesn't change the fact that you are and always will be that little guy's Grandma, but this," he motioned towards the unconventional family standing before them, "it's right, Carly or no Carly."

"I know that you're saying is true, but I can't help it. I feel bad for my daughter. I know she willingly gave this all up, but look at what she's missing out on."

"But that's the difference between the two of you," the sympathetic guard pointed out. "No matter what, you want the best for your child, but Carly simply wanted what was best for Carly." Bobbie couldn't argue with that, and, realizing that, for now, their conversation was over, Johnny cleared his throat to get Jason and Elizabeth's attention. "Look who I found fanning herself in the hallway. See, Webber," he teased his younger friend, "your aversion to air conditioning is just one of your many weird quirks, and it has nothing to do with the fact that you're a wimp or a girl."

"Too bad I never claimed either thing, Lurch," she returned, playing along in their ever-continuing game of verbal banter. "Only someone as sexist as you could come up with that chauvinist reasoning."

With a wink, he walked out of the room, tossing back over his shoulder, "I do what I can."

Tensing apologetically, the medical professional asked, "is this a bad time?"

"Not at all, Bobbie," Jason assured her, drying his hands on a dish towel before handing it to Elizabeth to do the same. "What can we do for you?"

"Actually, it's more what I can do for you," she revealed with a warm smile. "I was thinking that it's too beautiful of a day for the two of you to stay cooped up in here, and it's been a couple of weeks since I've seen my grandson, so why not help each other out. If you wouldn't mind me borrowing Michael for a few hours, Johnny mentioned the two of you might like to go for a ride."

"What about the hospital," Elizabeth inquired. "Do you have to work today?" The nurse shook her head negatively, so the nanny pushed on with more questions. "Well, if we go, would you need us back by a certain time? And what about Michael's naptime? We have a certain routine that he likes, and…"

"Thanks, Bobbie," Jason interrupted his girlfriend, smirking at the brunette before continuing. "Michael just ate, but, if he gets hungry, there are a couple of bottles prepared in the fridge. His jars of food are in the pantry, but he'll probably only want formula before he goes down for his nap. If you'd let him, he'd probably play in the sink all afternoon. He loves it even more than his bathtub for some reason, but it's up to you whatever you do. If you have any questions, want something, or need to get in touch with us, let Johnny know, and he'll take care of it." Smiling appreciatively at the older woman, he took Elizabeth's hand in his and led them out of the room. "We'll be back in a few hours. Thanks again."

She watched them go, enjoying the sight of two people so obviously at ease and content with one another. Sometimes, it seemed rare – a couple who not only loved but complimented each other. It was definitely something she herself hadn't experienced in her life. Yes, she had experienced romance, and, yes, she had been married, but neither of those things guaranteed that a relationship would work, and, in her case, they hadn't. However, she couldn't help but think that Elizabeth and Jason were different, that they would be able to weather any storm and come out together in one piece and stronger than ever.

Moving across the room to stand beside the sink, she lovingly tousled her grandson's hair and leaned over to place an affectionate kiss upon his baby soft, chubby cheek. "Your Mommy was crazy to give this – you and your Daddy – up, but you have Elizabeth, don't you, and, perhaps, she's better for you than my daughter. I just…I don't know, Michael; I don't know what Carly was thinking when she left you, but," she shrugged, "maybe it's better that we don't know. After all, you're happy and healthy, and that's all that matters. Right?"

They had spent the last hour driving through the Port Charles countryside, ignoring their usual haunts and routes and exploring new roads, roads that, unlike the cliff road, would lead them somewhere. Where that somewhere was though, neither Jason nor Elizabeth knew, and that was what made it fun - well, besides the fact that they were riding, too, while uncovering new places that could potentially become special to them.

The particular street that they were on was no more than a one lane, dirt path, overhung with the foliage of a summer woods, shadowed from the scorching, August sun by the thousands of leaves that formed a sheltering canopy over top of them, and lined with the trunks of the trees, all of them at least a hundred years old. It was as close to being uninhabited as one could find for a suburb, and Elizabeth loved it.

Normally, she and Jason had a system to communicate silently while they were riding. If she was tired or needed to stop and stretch, she would lay the side of her head flat against the upper portion of his back; if she was hungry or thirsty, she would wrap her hands all the way around his body and rest them against his stomach; if she wanted him to turn a certain direction, left or right, she would use whichever hand was associated with her desired destination and use it to tap his corresponding thigh; and, if she wanted to stop so they could closely explore a certain place, she was supposed to gently squeeze her arms around him. She was great with every signal…except one, and, as they rounded a bend on the old dirt road that afternoon, she remained true to form.

Instead of clutching his body as she herself had decided would be the indication of wishing to see something in detail, she became excited and innocently eager. "Jason, Jason," the young art student screamed over the roar of the motorcycle, "stop!"

"What?"

"Stop," she repeated, pointing towards what appeared to be an abandoned cottage and waving at it. "I want to look at that!"

"The house," his voice betrayed his mystification and absolute lack of understanding for her sudden interest. "Why?"

But Elizabeth was not deterred. "Please," she practically begged, knowing that he would never deny her one of her, as he termed them, mysterious whims. Becoming agitated, she started squirming on the bike, her left arm wrapping as far around his abdomen as it could while her right pulled on his arm in an attempt to help him steer the bike into the house's driveway. "I want to go inside," she explained her desire to stop. "I want to see if it's as perfect as it looks."

Although she doubted he was able to comprehend every word she had said, Jason apparently got the general idea of what she wanted to do and pulled over. The brunette, whose blue eyes were glittering with the prospect of adventure and a sense of providence at finding the little bungalow, refused to wait for her boyfriend to help her off the motorcycle, and practically leapt from the still reverberating Harley as if its touch burned her skin. She could hear Jason laughing behind her as he turned the bike off, but she didn't care, and she sure as hell didn't wait for his slow butt to finally join her. Instead, with her helmet still on, she ran up the small porch to peer into the cottage through the glass inlays of the front door.

"Do you think we could call the realtor and pretend to be interested in the house so that we can see it," she yelled loud enough so that he could hear her, but it was unnecessary, because, when she turned around to wait for his answer, he was right there, smirking in thinly disguised amusement and watching her with doting curiosity, hands fisted at his hips and looking perfectly rakish with his hair wind blown, his face tanned and ruggedly handsome, and his skin lightly misted with a fine sheen of perspiration. Suddenly, Elizabeth wasn't sure what she wanted to do more: explore the house or explore her boyfriend.

"What happened to the agreed upon signal?" Apparently, said boyfriend was in the mood to tease her.

Biting her lip and wincing apologetically, she shuffled the toe of her tennis shoe against the wooden planks of the deck. "I forgot."

"And what about your helmet, did you forget to take it off, too?"

"Whoops," the nanny giggled, reaching up to remove the protective headgear only to have her hands tenderly brushed away as the blonde haired, blue eyed, cheeky devil standing in front of her decided to do it for her.

"Much better," he complimented after setting the helmet aside. They both immediately forgot about it as soon as he started running his fingers through her thick, chocolate tresses. "Now, about this realtor, I have a better idea. Why don't we just let ourselves in?"

"You want to bust into an abandoned house just so that I can satisfy my penchant for snooping?"

Releasing his grasp upon her, Jason folded his arms over his chest and stared her down, the epitome of earnestness. "Why not?"

"Ugh, because it's illegal, for one," she pointed out, laughing at his blatant disregard for the law and nonchalance about the prospect of breaking it.

"It's only illegal if you get caught, and we won't."

"You have a strange sense of logic there, Morgan," the artist ribbed her boyfriend.

"Look," he said incisively, "it comes down to three things. Do you want to see the cottage?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to sit around here for a couple of hours waiting for a realtor to arrive and, subsequently, getting home too late to give Michael his bath?"

"Of course not."

"Well then, do you want me to break in?"

"Alright," Elizabeth agreed. Almost instantly, she forgot her concern for the law and became impatient with enthusiasm again. "But, if we get arrested," she playfully threatened as he led her from the porch around to a low hung window, "I'm telling the cops you twisted my arm, and you know they'll believe me."

Jason simply shrugged, not caring.

She watched in fascination and impetuosity as he opened the window and motioned for her to come to his side. Without word of warning, he lifted her clear off the ground and helped her through the small space, his hands firmly placed around her hips, his fingers skimming across the tight fabric of her jeans where they formed to the curved shape of her derrière. She was halfway through the window, her head, shoulders, arms, and stomach inside while her lower body was still outside when she decided to good-naturedly harass him. "What's wrong, Morgan? Did you forget your lock picks today?"

"Nope," he returned. She could hear the grin in his voice. "I just thought this would be more fun."

Under her breath, the petite brunette grumbled, "more fun for whom?"

Evidently, the mob boss heard her complaining, because, just before he let go of her and let her tumble to the dusty wooden floor of the cottage without warning, he answered, "me."

After cleaning herself off and rearranging her clothes, Elizabeth made her way through the small bungalow, ignoring the fact that Jason would never fit through the window and refusing to unlock the door for him. She meandered her way through the ground floor, quickly covering it, before she ran up the stairs to see the second story, picturing in her mind exactly how she would decorate the place if she, the lug who had dropped her, and Michael lived there together. By the time she came back downstairs, she could picture even the smallest detail of every room, she could envision herself living there with the two most important people in her life, and she could imagine some of the colorful complains Johnny, Francis, Max, and the other guys would come with at having to stand guard outside her door with nature, the elements, and the local wildlife to keep them company. Quite possibly, those fantasies of their discomfort and her amusement over them were her favorite things about the house.

"And," a deep male voice prompted her from behind where she was standing in the middle of the main room, a voice that sent thrills of adrenaline and desire shooting through her blood stream. "Where would your studio be?"

He had used his lock picks to let himself in, but the door was now closed behind him. "How did you know…," she started only to shake her head, remembering Jason always knew what she was thinking. "There's a small room off the kitchen," she revealed, instinctively pointing towards the door that led to the rest of the first floor. "It's probably supposed to be a breakfast nook, but this room and the kitchen are both big enough for a table, so it's really unnecessary. Plus, it has windows on three of the four walls, wide, gorgeous windows that allow in so much light. And they're old windows, too," she added breathlessly, "so there are flaws in the glass that would cast distinctive and unique shadows into the room when the sun was shining."

"But what about an extra bedroom," he asked, moving closer towards her but still denying himself the opportunity to touch her. "Wouldn't it give you more space?"

"It would," the youthful nanny agreed, "but there are only three. We would need one," she explained, motioning between the two of them, "Michael would need one, and, if we would ever have another child, the last room could be used as the nursery." Realizing what she said, Elizabeth immediately turned a bright shade of scarlet before slapping a hand over her very own mouth which had just betrayed her. Mumbling through her fingers, she exclaimed, "oh my god," before turning away from Jason and trying to figure out a way to escape up the chimney of the fireplace just like the childhood fairytales of Santa Clause alleged.

"You're right," his voice even, calm, and collected reassured her from behind as he moved up to delicately place his large, strong hands on her shoulders, spinning her gently around to face him. "That is a better use for the third bedroom."

It was the perfect thing for him to say. He didn't make her promises neither of them were sure they would ever keep, he didn't declare a premature desire to have a baby with her, and he didn't make an awkward situation even worse by teasing her. As he always did, the blonde Mafioso, in as few of words as possible, both set her at ease and made her feel confident that he, too, if the situation and the timing was right someday, would consider, perhaps, extending the unconventional family they were already sharing, and, she realized then, that she loved him for it. However, after the baby bombshell she had just dropped unexpectedly, Elizabeth knew it wasn't the occasion or the place to declare her feelings. Soon though.

Instead, she smiled at the man standing before her, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, willing her artistic touch to arouse him, and leaned in to lock their lips together in an indulgent, turbulent, amorous embrace, an embrace whose fervor seemed to only be increased by the fact that they were currently breaking and entering. There was nothing like living dangerously to make a girl want to spend a lazy afternoon in front of a non-working fireplace making love to her boyfriend on a dusty, hard, wooden floor in an abandoned cottage.

Okay, so it wasn't on par with those 19th Century Romantic novels her eleventh grade English teacher tried to make her read, – _thank you Cliff's Notes_, she said silently to herself while allowing Jason to lower her to the ground – but what she shared with him was real, it was fun, and, for them, it was perfect because and not in spite of its imperfections. They would never live in the adorable house surrounded by woods, but, if nothing else, they would share an amazing afternoon there, and, when they were ready to leave, they would return back to their home high atop Harbor View Towers where a beautiful baby boy and several loyal teddy bears in the shape of employed bodyguards would be waiting for them, and, perhaps, that was better than any fantasy the enchanted cottage could inspire. At least, it was for them.

"So, kid, how does it feel," Francis prompted his young charge as he sat down beside her on the bench. They were on the docks, taking a quick break before heading back home after a long day. "You're finally a junior, you've finished with all your core requirements, so you can focus on what you love to do – art, and school starts back up in less than a week."

"Don't remind me," the brunette rolled her eyes, sighed deeply, and collapsed her shoulders in a frustrated huff. "Please."

"You don't want to go back to school?"

"Yes…no, I don't know," Elizabeth sputtered. Watching the water and the many vehicles, both recreational and professional, travel upon it, she continued. "I do want to graduate and get a degree, and, someday, I want to use that degree to prove to my family that painting is just as worthy of a profession as medicine, but…"

"But you've gotten used to being at home day and night, you've gotten used to spending all your time with Michael, and you've gotten used to being there whenever Mr. Morgan has a spare moment." Observing her closely, he asked, "how am I doing so far?"

"You're doing so well, I'd say you're in the wrong profession, Donovan." Giggling, the college student teased, "how do you look in a cape and lots of jewelry? You know, your birthday is coming up soon. If you wanted, I could help set you up for your new job, and, in this whack job of a town, I'm sure you'd have plenty of clients seeking your guidance."

Francis played along with her joke, sensing that she needed a moment of fun after their extensive, serious day. "I would need an assistant."

"Oh, please take Lurch," she mockingly begged. "He looks good in bright colors, and he'd probably be your biggest customer."

"I'll keep him in mind," the blonde guard agreed. "But that's enough about me; I'm not that interesting. I'd much rather hear about you. We got your mailbox key today, you made me lug all your new books and art supplies around campus while we got you ready for the next semester, we paid your bill, and we picked up your final schedule. Yeah," he conceded, "at this point, you're not too excited about going back to school, but you, Jason, and Michael will adjust, and, before you know it, it'll be Christmas break, and you'll be a semester closer to graduating." He paused momentarily to let his words sink in, noticing that she tipped her head and nodded in recognition. "Now, why don't you tell me what classes you're going to make me sit through for the next few months."

"I actually tried to consider you when I was making my schedule."

"Elizabeth, you didn't need to do that."

"Well, it's beneficial to both of us," she revealed. "If you're interested in the classes, you might pay attention to the lectures, and then you'll be able to help me prepare for my tests."

He smiled, amused and impressed. "You're always one step ahead of me, aren't you, Webber?"

"I try," she smirked, rocking her body to playfully knock against his shoulder.

"So, now that I know that, what are we studying this semester?"

"Pointillism, which I know has nothing to do with being a…security expert, but it was necessary…and I thought it sounded cool, Pop Culture Visual Iconography, Graphic Design, Sculpture…"

"Wait a minute," Francis interrupted her, "do you mean I'm going to have to be in a room with naked men?"

"Occasionally," she admitted, "but there will also be nude women, and I thought you might appreciate that." The brunette had to stifle a laugh when she saw the upturn of her friend's lip and the sparkle in his merry, wise eyes. "I'm also taking Archery for my gym credits, and, as a treat for you, we're taking The History of Organized Crime."

"You didn't?"

Standing up, the young nanny held her hand out to help her guard up from the bench, giggling at his exaggerated movements as he pretended to be unable to rise on his own accord. "Do you think you'll be in the text books? The other girls in the class would be pretty impressed if you were. You'd practically be a celebrity in their eyes."

"Move it along, Kid," he good-naturedly ordered her. "And, no, I don't think I'll be in the textbooks. Remember, none of us have ever been convicted of any crime, let alone one related to the alleged Port Charles mafia. As for your female classmates, do not get any ideas; you are not a matchmaker."

She pouted. "I could be…"

"Just because you're happily involved in a relationship, that does not mean that everyone else wants to be tied down to one person."

"So you follow the O'Brien manta – 'The more the merrier?'"

"I wouldn't take it that far," Francis chuckled. "Johnny's one of a kind, but I'm not exactly a great catch myself, and I like living the single life. I drink out of the milk carton, I leave the toilet seat up, I…"

As they were walking up the stairs together, Elizabeth leading the way, his voice faded off, and she stopped to turn around and look at him only to find that her guard was focused upon the far, shadowed corner of the docks. "What is it? Did you see something?"

Her questions brought his attention back to her and proved that he had been preoccupied by something. "What?"

"You were in the middle of listing all your negative traits, all of which, so far, let me tell you, are easily fixable, but then, all of a sudden, you stopped, and, when I tried to talk to you, you were too focused upon some phantom distraction over there by the alley to really hear me." Poking him tauntingly, she questioned, "what is it, Donovan? Did you see a rat?"

"It might have been." His response was an appropriate one for her inquiry, but his tone belied a sense of sincerity and apprehension.

"Francis?"

"Come on, Webber, let's get you home. Jason's probably pacing the penthouse waiting for you."

She let him lead her away, not arguing with his obvious evasion. But surely he hadn't seen something. She had been standing there with him and hadn't noticed anything. Francis was just paranoid and slightly…or considerably protective of her. There was nothing for him to worry about; everything was just fine. Just fine….


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

She wouldn't go so far as to say that she was as snug as a bug in a rug seeing as how that expression was not only cliché but confusing, for why would an insect want to be in a carpet where they could easily get smashed and would struggle to feed, but, putting aside such theoretical and convoluted thoughts for a time when she wasn't half asleep, Elizabeth Webber had to admit that sleeping in Jason Morgan's arms was damn comfortable. Her eyes were closed and the drapes were still drawn to block out the light from outside, but she knew that it was morning, just as she knew that her boyfriend was already awake, patiently watching her sleep as he waited for either her or Michael to wake up. It was the best feeling in the world to realize that the man she loved was beside her, and the only thing would make the day better would be go to back to sleep for just a little bit longer; she wasn't ready to get up yet.

_Rise and shine, Elizabeth!_

Apparently, her self-recorded wake up call on her cell phone had a different idea. It was set early enough, however, that she could afford to hit the snooze button for a few more minutes, so, reaching a lethargic hand out, she went to reset the alarm with the touch of one button.

_Not so fast, Webber! Do you think Monet avoided his work by sleeping in?_

There was nothing worse in the world than your own voice taunting you, she realized at that moment, but, ever persistent, she ignored the words of warning she had provided herself with, hit the snooze button despite the phone's advice, and rolled over onto her opposite side to cuddle in more closely to Jason.

"You know that you have to get up, don't you," he asked her softly, his voice itself a study in calm.

Grumbling, she furrowed her head even deeper into his shoulder. "Who asked you?"

"Your fall classes start today."

The cranky brunette took just a moment to think before responding. "I'm going to quit."

She felt her boyfriend simply shrug his shoulders before wrapping his arms securely around her waist. His hands were underneath their comforter, one placed possessively on the small of her back and the second cradling the reverse side of her right thigh so he could pull her leg over the top of his. "Okay," he agreed readily, gliding his palms against her skin and creating a delicious but utterly distracting friction.

"Um hm," Elizabeth murmured, dropping a feather light kiss onto the slight hollow between his two clavicle bones. It took several seconds for his response to sink in, for her to really comprehend what he had just said to her, but, once she did, her sleep relaxed body tensed and sat up so quickly, the mafia boss who had been holding her could do nothing but laugh. "You can't agree with me," she impetuously shouted, shoving his wandering hands away.

"I'm just supporting your decisions."

"No, you're using some annoying mind trick where you tell me exactly what I want to hear so that I realize what I want is wrong," she accused him. "That's not fair, especially since you know that I can barely form a complete sentence in the morning before I've showered, had breakfast, and absorbed at least several servings of sugar."

"I could help you with that shower part," he offered magnanimously.

"Focus, Casanever," she snapped her fingers to get his attention. "You're not going to distract me with an offer to scrub my back. It might be the last thing that I want to do, but I am going to school today."

"Elizabeth, you don't need a college degree to paint," Jason told her softly, entwining their left hands together in a gesture meant to reassure and soothe her. "If you feel like quitting, then quit. It's your life, and you're the only one who has to be happy with it."

"I've come this far, I'm not going to throw in the towel now," the young nanny argued, squeezing his fingers before getting out of bed and making her way towards her dresser. "Besides, I've already paid in full for this semester's tuition."

"That is not a good reason to stay in school."

Turning around, she quirked one finely shaped brow at him. "Why are you so adamant about this?"

"Because you've been dreading this day for weeks now," he answered, joining her by standing up. "Don't worry about what anyone else thinks either. You have to do what you want."

"That's the problem though," she confessed, striding across the room so that he could wrap her up in his embrace, "I want both things – to go to school in order to finish my degree and to stay home during the day with you and Michael."

"But I'm not home all the time because of work, and you'll only be away from Michael for a few hours. I saw your schedule. Even with getting to and from class, you'll never be gone for more than four hours a day. You'll barely be gone long enough to miss us."

"Maybe not you," the artist teased him, slipping her hands down his back to rest on his butt, "but I'll miss your son."

"Oh, you'll miss me," Jason countered, leaning in to kiss her. Their noses brushed together twice before their lips touched, but, before either of them could deepen the embrace, Elizabeth's voice filled the air.

_Picasso would be so ashamed of you – hitting the snooze button._

"Ugh, why did I ever think that was a good idea," she asked rhetorically while stomping her foot and pointing towards the offending mobile. However, too at ease in his arms, she didn't move to turn it off.

_And what about Reuben? He would be embarrassed for you, Webber._

"That's it," she announced, marching towards her bedside table and lifting the offending phone up. Holding it out to her boyfriend, she ordered, "here, take it. Throw it against a wall this afternoon when someone irritates you at work, give it to the homeless guy who lives on the corner of Chestnut and Elm, hell, I don't care, use it for target practice later, but, whatever you do with it, please, keep it as far away from me as possible."

"Go take a shower," he good-naturedly directed her, even going so far as to propel her shoulders in the bathroom's direction, "while I get you some breakfast and reprogram your phone."

"Not necessary. I'm just going to let you wake me up every morning. It's not like you're still sleeping anyway. And I don't care what anyone says, regression into adolescence is a good thing."

"You know that if I wake you up, you'll end up running late every day," the blonde haired, blue eyed Mafioso teased her.

As she walked through the doorway into the en suite, Elizabeth turned to look back over her shoulder, smirking up at her boyfriend with a coquettish grin. "At least I'll leave here with a smile on my face in the morning and a spring in my step. Worse things could happen to a girl than a quickie right after she wakes up."

The last thing she heard before she turned on the water for her shower was his response. "Who said anything about it being quick?" And just like that, her morning was looking _up_.

Her good, Jason inspired mood had wilted faster than an exotic orchid left in Lurch's large, clumsy, utterly careless hands. With a swirl of blue and red, two colors she normally found to be beautiful, Elizabeth had been escorted off campus, effectively starting out of the new semester by missing her first class, by a much too enthusiastic Detective Taggart and his recently recruited cadet of a partner, hauled down to the police station, and separated from her very cross bodyguard. An hour later, she remained seated at a cold metal desk in an equally unattractive room waiting to hear why she had been detained, wondering where Francis had run off to, and visualizing various ways to inflict as much pain and humiliation upon the bald man sitting across from her.

"Let's try this again, Miss Webber," Taggart droned on, his manner insulting and overbearing. "Are you expecting me to believe that it was merely a coincidence that shots were fired not a block from the PCU campus just minutes before we spotted you and your gun-toting thug of a shadow pulling into a restricted parking space? "

Elizabeth simply stared straight ahead, never blinking, never focusing her gaze, never acknowledging a single word the police officer uttered.

"You see, this is what I think," he continued on, undaunted. "I think that some two bit punk insulted you while you and your driver made your way towards the school this morning, Donovan took action on your behalf, shot the teenager point blank, killing him, and then sped off and parked in an off limits lot so that the two of you could hurry inside, find your seats, and pretend to have been there long enough to establish an alibi."

Bored, the brunette attempted to name the truly one of a kind shade of paint covering the interrogation room's walls.

"Or maybe you're covering for Morgan. Did the kid make a pass at you even though everyone knows you're Anger Boy's personal Mob Moll?"

It was odd, the petite artist realized while she sat there ignoring every word the detective pronounced as if what he spoke was actually the truth, what a person thinks of when they clear their minds of every thought relevant to their present situation. She could see Taggart's lips moving and knew that words were coming from them, but all she could hear was a fairly unrecognizable song, one where she could remember the melody but the lyrics just seemed to be out of reach. Before she knew what she was doing, she started humming out loud. Evidently, the older officer sitting across from her took that as recognition of his conspiracies against Jason, expostulating at her and her boyfriend at an even louder pitch while she endeavored to disregard him even more. There would not be another slipup.

"But, you see, that doesn't make much sense either, because, let's face it, you're always locked up safely in your penthouse high above the rest of the town where no one, especially not some punk street dealer, can get to you. No, I don't think this was about you, Princess; I think this was business – an execution, mob style.

Elizabeth merely blew a bubble and popped it. Thank god for gum, she giggled silently to herself. It really came in handy when one had to get rid of the sour taste of someone else's desperation as it hung heavily in a room. As the detective watched her, rage contorting his face into a mask of worry lines and stress, she repeated her actions, hiding her inner smirk of self-congratulations. Who knew being questioned by the police was so much fun?

"You're just like him, do you know that," Taggart bellowed, pounding the metal table for effect.

The young nanny, in return, examined her nails, determining that they needed a manicure and wondering, at the same time, if Johnny, as a doorman and bodyguard extraordinaire, could wield a file as well as he could a semi-automatic handgun.

"Except I think you might be even more infuriating than Anger Boy. At least his is a studied air of indifference; you, you," the older man accused, pointing his index finger in her general direction. The accuracy of his aim was off though because he was distracted by his annoyance. Talk about letting your emotions affect your work, Elizabeth mused to herself. That trait definitely had to serve the irrational detective well when he was in the line of fire, and the perky brunette couldn't wait to share the information with her three favorite Corinthos-Morgan employees. "You sit there and do everything you can to purposely make me mad, but it's not going to work, and I'm not going to let this go."

Cool as a cucumber there, eh, Q-Tip, she challenged him silently. If only he wasn't as volatile, she might consider volleying banter with him back and forth – purely for shits and giggles.

"We can do this two ways," Marcus continued.

Even his name made the diminutive pixy of a woman want to giggle. It seemed so…British high society. She could just imagine the local thugs shaking in their Timberlands at the sight of the cop – shaking in amusement. Perhaps she should start calling him Snickers, Elizabeth questioned herself silently. After all, that's surely all he heard when he turned his back on someone.

"You can either cooperate and tell me everything you know, or you can do what I think you're going to do and protect Morgan. However," he continued, his words dripping in faux anxiety on her behalf, "I can only protect you if you work with me."

Her Grandmother's cat was scarier than Baldy.

"Anger Boy is just going to use you. He'll let you cover for him," Taggart listed, "he'll let you warm his bed, he'll buy you nice things and parade your around on his arm for all his little Mob associates to see, but, when it's either you or him, you can bet the house every time that he'll sacrifice you to save his own undeserving hide."

Elizabeth sighed dreamily, resting her chin upon her fist. At the mention of Jason's _hide_ she immediately thought: and what gorgeous hide it is, too – well worth a sacrifice or…ten.

"I'll even see what I can do about Donovan," the older man offered. "I know you're fond of him, that you consider the guy your friend, so, if you cooperate with me, I'll plead his charges down, and he'll serve only a few years in prison."

Before she could wordlessly reply to herself, a sarcastic quip just waiting to tear through her quick mind, there was a commotion in the squad room which served to disrupt their _friendly little chat_. The detective ran out the door, guns practically blazing in anticipation of getting to confront his favorite alleged criminal. The next thing Elizabeth knew, she could hear a cacophony of male voices, none of them sounding any bit too happy. Words were bandied about, spoken sharply. Her name was mentioned several times, and she clearly heard Taggart refer to her as Anger Girl, something that made the young nanny quite pleased with herself. It wasn't five minutes after the commotion started that the Police Commissioner himself told her she was free to go, apologizing for any inconvenience his overzealous detective might have caused her.

Stepping out into the squad room, a cheeky, pleased grin on her expressive, beautiful face, she saw a sight she would never forget. Taggart's self-righteous face was almost purple with bottled up animosity, but he was being kept in check by two, armed officers standing in front of him, an amused Francis who was not fighting back his chuckles at her behavior, and a very impressed Jason whose face appeared impassive but whose eyes were glistening with admiration and pride. Elizabeth felt a thrill go up her in knowing that she was with him, that they would be leaving the police station together to go home to his little boy. After all, she had already missed her first two classes of the day. Why go back to campus for just one more?

Besides, they had celebrating to do: the PCPD had been foiled by someone on the inside of the Corinthos-Morgan _family_ once again, and victory had never tasted so sweet to the brunette vixen.

Elizabeth sighed.

"What?"

"Hm," she questioned, turning around from her bare canvas to observe her boyfriend who was dutifully working away at his desk like most professionals were on a Friday afternoon.

"You sighed," he pointed out. "Is something wrong?"

"You, Mr. Morgan, are not very adept at reading the meaning behind a sigh." Tauntingly, she waved her paintbrush at him. "Notice, my shoulders are perfectly straight, my face is relaxed and worry-wrinkle free, and the sigh itself was quiet, slightly reflective, almost tranquil."

"You're in a good mood," Jason realized, looking back down at the reports he was reading but maintaining their conversation. "Is there any particular reason, or are you just excited about having dinner tonight with your Grandmother?" She sighed again, glaring at him, but he simply laughed. "I take it that's your pissed off sigh?"

"You're a quick study."

"If you don't want to see her, why did you invite her over?"

"I can't keep avoiding her," the feisty brunette reasoned, "and I've put off this night long enough. Plus, because you're going to have to work late, it's the perfect evening to invite her over here. Out of sight, out of mind, you know?"

"Eventually, she will corner me," he pointed out not unkindly, "and we'll actually have to have a conversation."

"I realize that, I do," Elizabeth argued, "but excuse me if I want to keep those baby blues of your intact for as long as I can. Gram will clam your eyes out the first chance she gets. She might seem all nice and prissy in public, but she's eerily scary when you get her alone. I think it's all the reverse psychology mumbo-jumbo she pulls on you, using a soft, gentle voice when she's angry and offering you words of advice disguised as sage wisdom instead of the judgmental barbs they're really meant to be."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're paranoid? Maybe all Audrey and I need to do is sit down and work this out once and for all."

"She won't be satisfied until you're out of my life," the young artist pronounced confidently.

"Well, that's not going to happen."

"Damn straight," she agreed with him. "So, for now, I'm going to try to pacify her. We'll have dinner, she'll lecture me, I'll pretend to actually listen to what she has to say, and then, by the time she leaves, I'll really be ready for you to come home and distract me." Jason laughed a quick, almost silent chuckle, but she knew that was just about as significant of a sign of amusement that she was going to get out of her rather stoic boyfriend. "Speaking of which, how late do you think you'll be?"

"Just a few hours," he answered with a noncommittal shrug of his wide shoulders. "The meeting could take less than an hour…"

"But Gram is going to be here longer than that," Elizabeth interrupted him. "You have to stall if it starts going too quickly."

"Don't worry, if we finish early, I'll go for a ride."

"I don't like that idea that well either," she pouted playfully. "You know the deal, Morgan. If I can't go with you, you're not supposed to take the bike out."

"In all likelihood though," he continued as if she hadn't interjected, "it'll take a few hours, and, by the time Max drops off the guys who are going with us, your Grandmother will be sound asleep in her bed, and you'll be waiting for me upstairs."

Her sapphire irises sparkled mischievously. "I could still be in the kitchen cleaning up from dinner. What would we do then?"

"I'd help _you_ clean up."

"I'm sure you would," the college student agreed with him, rolling her eyes at the innuendo in his statement. Moving across the room, her painting forgotten, she stood behind him at his desk, her hands easily finding their way to his neck in order to work out the stress induced kinks and tension. "And I'd have to return the favor of course. It's only fair that way. But I was thinking that maybe we could mix it up a little bit, perhaps try some bubbles…"

"Michael takes bubble baths," Jason immediately stopped her, twisting around in his chair to glower at her lightly. "I don't."

"Yet."

"Ever."

"You sound overly confident there, Mr. Morgan. Would you like to make a wager on that?"

He ignored her, turning back to his work. "You'd lose."

"Oh, trust me, a woman has _many _ways to get a man to do _whatever_ she wants him to, and you are no exception. Your glares might work on your business associates; they might intimidate brave, successful, grown men and make little boys wet their pants, but I am impervious to them."

The blonde Mafioso eyed her carefully. "You really are challenging me, aren't you?"

"Bring on your A-game, Morgan."

"Alright, if that's the way you want to play this," he agreed only to be sidetracked by the phone ringing. "Hold that thought." She watched as he picked up the receiver and prepared to listen to the person on the other line. They had a system now though. She could stay in the room while he talked as long as she didn't ask questions about his side of the conversations, but normally she never paid them any mind anyway.

_I saw your girl today_, she overheard the caller state. The loud, angry voice was garbled, undistinguished, but definitely male. _She was with the kid…shopping for baby clothes, art supplies, toys,…and lingerie. You always did have everything, didn't you? I wonder how long that will last._

The caller clicked off, effectively dismissing Jason and ending the conversation before the livid and concerned mob boss could say a thing in return. Evidently, there had been a rat that day on the docks, and it had just found them, reversing the status-quo and setting its own trap.

Surprisingly, their evening had gone better than she had expected. Perhaps Audrey had been of a similar mind, wanting to keep the peace with her granddaughter instead of antagonizing her further, or maybe Elizabeth was simply too distracted by the phone call Jason had received earlier. Whatever the reason, the two had declared a silent truce throughout dinner, making small talk instead of making war. While the older nurse droned on about hospital gossip, her flowers, and the plans she was making to take a trip that winter to visit friends in Phoenix, she had simply nodded her head and made apathetic statement of approval or recognition. Apparently, the gig was up though, because she could hear the petulant impatience in her Grandmother's tone.

"Elizabeth, have you heard a word I've said to you all night?"

"Of course, Gram." It was only a partial lie. After all, she had heard what the older woman was saying; she just didn't care. There were more important things for one to ponder instead – like the fact that someone was officially watching her every move, and that that someone just happened to be slightly hostile. "I've heard Arizona is nice in the winter. I'm sure it'll be a welcome respite from our New York winters."

"Alright, I can't do this any longer," Audrey tossed her napkin aside and steeled her expression against her granddaughter's polite, mock kindness. "I know."

"You know what?"

"I know what happened."

This Elizabeth had not been expecting. "What…how…I…?"

"It is not everyday that a woman hears about one of her relatives being carted off to the police station for questioning like an immoral criminal." Exhaling exasperatedly, the medical professional continued. "You have no idea what it's been like for me at work this week. Every doctor, every nurse, every orderly wants to know what it's like to have a granddaughter connected to organized crime."

Like a broken record, she repeated her practiced litany, her tried and true defense of her boyfriend. "Gram, Jason's never been convicted of even a single misdemeanor, let alone something worthy of capital punishment. Give it a rest."

"I'm not here to debate Mr. Morgan's character. I…"

"No, what are you here for? I'd really like to know," the young artist pressed. "I thought you were here to see me, to attempt to forge some sort of peace between us, but, obviously, I was wrong. Like always, you're here to attack my relationship with Jason."

"Am I happy that you're involved with a man who is rumored to be in the mafia," Audrey raised her voice, silencing her granddaughter's complaint, "of course not, but you've been dating him now for two months, and I realize that this is simply not a phase or something you are doing for attention. For some reason beyond me, you seem to care for the man."

"I realize that you don't approve of his job…as a _coffee importer_, Gram, but the job does not make the man. Jason is not defined by what he does to earn a living; instead, for me, he's defined by his actions as a father, his actions as a friend, and his actions as my boyfriend. It doesn't matter to you that he respects me, that he believes in me and my artwork. To you, if he doesn't wear a stethoscope around his neck, work from nine to five, or live in a house with a white picket fence, then he's not worthy of some impossible standard you set for those in your family. Yes," Elizabeth sighed, returning their conversation back to its original topic, "I was taken to the precinct on Monday morning for questioning, but Taggart's an ass with a vendetta who just so happens to carry a badge."

"Detective Marcus Taggart is a respected member of this community," the older woman reminded her. "You should treat him with deference and not this apparent contempt."

"Obviously, you have never seen him so angry that he spits when he talks."

"Elizabeth," the nurse chastised her. "Perhaps, the issue should be what you did to the police officer to get him so upset and not the fact that he was sputtering."

"I didn't do anything," the petite brunette argued defensively, "and that was the problem. Q-Tip's ego can't handle the fact that Jason and I can simply ignore his ranting. When he was harassing me…for over an hour, let me add, in the interrogation room Monday morning, I pretended as if he wasn't there, and it made him so mad I thought there for a moment that he was going to have an aneurysm."

"That's really mature, young lady."

"He's the one who needs to grow up," she argued. "He dragged me down there and made me miss two of my classes simply because someone was shot and I was in the vicinity of the crime. He's paranoid, slightly delusional, and is an embarrassment to the town, not a hero as you seem to think of him. He badgered me simply because I'm Jason Morgan's girlfriend, and he hates Jason because he's Sonny Corinthos' best friend and business partner, and he's after Sonny for personal reasons that have nothing to do with either police business or the coffee industry."

"So that's it," Audrey questioned her. "That's all you have to say about the entire situation?"

"What do you want me to say, that being hassled for no reason by the cops made me see the error of my ways and that I'm going to break up with Jason?" The nanny scoffed, "fat chance of that happening. I'm happy where I am; I'm happy here with Jason and Michael, and you're going to have to accept the fact that I'm an adult and can make my own decisions. I support myself, I don't ask you for any help to pay for my tuition, and I even made the Dean's List last semester despite the fact that I live with someone you consider to be a delinquent who is beneath you. The horror of it all! The blasphemy! The impiety!"

"I think you've made your point, Elizabeth," the medical professional stated coldly. "We are just going to have to agree to disagree, because, no matter how much I loathe the idea of you living here and disapprove of your relationship with Mr. Morgan, you are my granddaughter, and I love you."

Without looking away from the woman or demeaning the seriousness of her admission, the diminutive artist returned the sentiment. "I love you, too, Gram."

Standing up from her chair at the same time as her grandmother did, she watched as the older woman gathered her things to leave. "I can't say it's been an entirely pleasant evening, dear, but it feels as if we've made some progress. Be careful," the nurse beseeched of her, "and, please, whatever else you might do, try to stay away from the police department if you can. Neither of us needs your parents to find out about this…situation."

"You mean relationship, right," Elizabeth corrected the nurse as she watched her walk out the penthouse door. Her tone was light, even teasing, but both women understood and heard the serious undertones to her words. Audrey simply nodded in recognition before leaving, not even once bothering to cast a glance in the direction of the night doorman Marco.

Yes, the youthful nanny reflected to herself as she climbed the stairs to get ready for bed, leaving the dinner dishes for the morning, she and Jason were in a relationship; they were a couple, but everything was not as wonderful and as perfect as she had made it out to be for her grandmother. Someone wanted to hurt them; an unknown, unidentified threat was going to test their connection. Sure, security had been heightened, her guard detail had been expanded, and every precaution was being taken to keep both her and Michael safe, but nothing was guaranteed, and, as she made her way down the hallway towards the bedroom she shared with the man she loved, the man she still had not confided her feelings to, she was worried about only one thing: if everyone was going to be watching out for her and her young charge, who was going to protect Jason?


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Hey everyone! Just a quick note here. When I started this story, I wasn't sure about Michael's birthday. On all the sites I checked, it was never listed, and, for some reason, I had a gut feeling that it was December. If I'm wrong, it's too late, because I went with it, and, for this story, at least, the little boy was born during that month. I'm actually not sure what his birthday is. LOL If you know, for curiosity sake, tell me, okay? Thanks for your patience, and enjoy the chapter!_

Charlynn

Chapter Fourteen

"Is this seat taken?"

Elizabeth glanced around in an attempt to figure out who the student beside her was addressing. Yes, there was an empty desk beside her, but that seemed to be customary. No one, apparently, felt comfortable enough to sit beside the girl who had a bodyguard with her everywhere she went. Normally, that was alright with the young nanny, for most professors allowed Francis to sit beside her, and, so, she always had a friend by her side, but the professor in her course on the history of organized crime refused to allow her guard access to a desk and relegated him to the back corner of the room. To make matters worse, they had been running late that morning, so she had missed her opportunity to sit by the door and was now smack dab in the center of the entire classroom.

"Excuse me." It was the voice again, she realized without glancing towards the woman who was talking, and, just like before, she went on ignoring the person. Whoever the girl was trying to talk to though, they were surely rude. "You're Elizabeth, right?"

This caught the brunette's attention. "Are you talking to me," she asked, turning to face the other woman.

"Yes," the stranger answered, laughing softly. "The professor assigned us to work together, and I was wondering if I could sit down in that empty desk beside you."

Shrugging the art student responded, "sure. I just…sorry, most people don't talk to me around here."

"I think it has something to do with the muscle. He's a little intimidating."

"Well, then he's doing his job, but, between you and me," Elizabeth confided, "he's really sweet – wouldn't hurt a fly even if it tried to bite him."

The stranger narrowed her eyes in confusion. "But he wears a gun all the time."

"It's just a precaution," the petite nanny dismissed. "I've only seen him use it a handful of times." She laughed when the other woman blanched considerably. "I'm just joking. He never pulls his weapon out when I'm around. Anyway, this assignment," she changed the subject deliberately, knowing she needed to guide them back to a safer topic, "what's it all about. I'm afraid I was a little distracted and wasn't paying much attention to what the professor said."

"Essentially, each group has been assigned a time period in history, and it's out responsibility to research it, find out all the information we possibly can that's related to the course, and then present it to the class."

"So basically," Elizabeth rolled her eyes in exasperation, "we're doing the professor's job for him. Typical."

"We were assigned the latest time period – from 1980 until present day, and my name is Carrie," the stranger revealed holding her hand out to greet Elizabeth. While the two women shook hands, Carrie continued. "So what was so distracting that you couldn't focus earlier?"

"Halloween costumes," the brunette disclosed. "I'm trying to come up with something original for us but still something that I can make on my own."

"For you and your boyfriend?"

"How did you know…?"

"This is not meant to be rude, Elizabeth," her partner warned her, "but everyone knows that you have a boyfriend. Hell, you're probably the most notorious couple in the whole town. If I wanted to, I could read about you and Mr. Morgan in the gossip columns everyday."

"Wow, this town is really sad if we're the most entertaining story going. However," she corrected the stranger, "the costumes are for me, my boyfriend's son, and whichever guard will be going out with us on Halloween…although they don't know yet that they're dressing up. It's my little surprise for them."

"I'd be willing to listen to your ideas while we look through the textbook gathering the little information it provides us with," the other woman offered with a kind smile.

"I really don't know what I want to do yet," the artist answered. "All I do know is that I want us to be themed. I know, I know, it's rather silly and juvenile, but I don't care."

"Maybe I could help you think of ideas," Carrie offered generously. "How old is boyfriend's son?"

"Ten months."

"And what kind of things does he like? What does he show interest in?"

"He loves to be read to," Elizabeth shared. "We're always reading him travel books."

The other woman smiled and regarded her closely. "That seems a little…strange."

But the nanny simply shrugged. "Perhaps unconventional, but, if he likes them, then they works for me. And, hey, you never know – perhaps he's learning something from the books."

Wanting more information, the stranger pressed. "What else does he like?"

"Michael loves the water and anything that has to do with it. When he's fussy, Jason will hold him up to the window so he can look out and watch the harbor, and, when it's nice out, we take him for walks along the docks. He likes going to the park and being pushed in the baby swings, he likes taking baths, especially in the kitchen sink, and he's pretty obsessed with jungle animals at this point, but that's probably because of all the travel books."

"You really seem to care for this little boy a lot," Carrie pointed out. "How long have you been dating his dad? Is the little boy's mom in the picture."

Suddenly, Elizabeth paused, taking note of how many questions her partner was asking her. Perhaps it was because she was on edge. The anonymous phone calls had continued, but, instead of saying anything, whoever was watching them would simply hang up the phone after several seconds of listening to either she or Jason demand answers. Or maybe it was because after two months of classes and being left alone, this stranger had approached her and instantly started to inquire about her life. And, yet, it might just have been because she felt unsettled without Francis by her side. After all, he was her safety net when she was at school, but, whatever the reason, she felt on edge and slightly suspicious of her partner.

"I'm sorry," the other woman interrupted her thoughts. "I'm being rude. Your relationship with your boyfriend is none of my business, and I can tell that my questions make you feel uneasy. I guess I'm just trying to live vicariously through you. It's what happens," she added with a wry smile, "when you're hopelessly single."

"I'm really not used to people asking me about my life," Elizabeth explained her hesitancy, "well, besides my Gram, but I'm sure you didn't mean anything by it. It was just weird. For months, no one would sit by me, let alone attempt to have a conversation with me, and then, bam, here you are asking me some very personal questions."

"You always seem unapproachable," the stranger admitted, shrugging her shoulders. "It's not that no one wants to get to know you; we're just scared to."

"The whole bodyguard thing again?"

"Well, there is that," Carrie acknowledged, "but it's also the vibe you give off, too. You sit in the back of the room, usually buried in some notebook, and you always look like you're being tortured, like you can't wait to escape the classroom."

"I must admit that school's not as appealing as it once was. When you have people waiting for you at home," the nanny shared, "socializing with other students is really not important any longer. Plus, because the professor won't let my guard sit with me, I can't stand the guy, so I always dread coming to this class."

"Don't take it personally," the other student told her. "I heard from another student who's taken his classes in the past that he once kicked a lady out on a test day for bringing her daughter with her when the little girl was sick and she didn't want to leave her alone. But we're getting off topic," she changed conversational tracks rather quickly. "Aren't we supposed to be talking about costume ideas?"

"We are," Elizabeth agreed with a small smile. "Okay," she admitted, "I did have one idea. Remember how I told you that Michael likes boats? Well, I was thinking that I'd dress him up as either a pirate or a sea captain, and then I'd go as a mermaid."

"But how are you going to walk with a baby in your arms?"

"Exactly what I thought," the youthful artist agreed. "So I nixed that idea. Now I'm trying to think of something that will embarrass the guard who goes with us, and, once I think of his costume, I'll get the idea for mine and Michael's from it."

"You could always do something where the guard would be in drag," Carrie suggested.

"I must admit that it would be fun to put makeup on one of them," Elizabeth agreed, giggling, "and the pictures I could take when they were finished would be excellent future blackmail material."

From that point on, the class period progressed quickly for both women. They worked, talked, and brainstormed about various costumes that would have the potential to totally emasculate a man. By the time they were dismissed, not only had they divided up the work they would need to finish for the assignment, but the diminutive art student felt as if she might have just made her first friend. Plus, she couldn't wait to introduce her to Francis. Her partner claimed to be a serial single, and, in Elizabeth's opinion, there was not a nicer guy in the world than Francis. Perhaps she could play matchmaker for them.

Walking out into the hallway, she looked ahead of the rush of students for her guard who always slipped out of the class five minutes early to bring the car around for her on days where there was bad weather. Since it was raining jaguars and hyenas that morning, they had agreed before her final class of the day that the late October weather was perfect for VIP pickup. Spotting the wet older man, she waved to him in order to attract his attention.

"Francis, Francis," the nanny called out, a wide, excited smile on her face. "Hurry up! There's someone I want you to meet."

"Is it the woman you were talking to during class," he asked her as he came up to her side. "From where I was banished into the back corner, all I could make out about your partner was that it was a she."

"Yeah, her name's Carrie. Carrie," Elizabeth turned around to look at the other student, "I'd like you to meet Francis Donovan. Some people call him Frannie or Fannie when he's too drunk to realize what they're saying…"

"I'm going to kill O'Brien for that one," the blonde haired man spit out, too distracted by his charge's revelation to pay attention to anything else she was saying.

"She's gone."

"What?" Snapping out of his trance, the bodyguard regarded her closely. "Your friend left already? But I thought you were going to introduce us?"

"I was," the artist assured him, rolling her eyes. "I know you too well and knew that you would want to meet her so you could get her full name for a background check."

"There's no such thing as being too precautious."

"So you keep telling me, Donovan," Elizabeth quipped, moving towards her guard's side and walking in the direction of the exit with him, an umbrella in the always steady and dependable Francis' left hand. "I guess she couldn't wait around. Maybe she had another class to get to."

"That's probably it," the older gentleman attempted to cheer her up. "Besides, you can just introduce us the next time. "Tell me about her though. What's she like?"

"Well, she's friendly, seems to enjoy listening to me talk."

"That's a good thing, because I think we all know how much you enjoy flapping that well-exercised jaw of yours."

"Haha, aren't we the regular stand up," Elizabeth teased her friend. "I thought you left the comedy portion of your traveling show to Johnny?"

"Who do you think taught him everything he knows," Francis returned her banter, earning himself a wide smile from the younger woman. "What does she look like…this, what did you call her, Carrie?"

"You know," the nanny tilted her head in thought, "I really can't remember. "I mean, I know that she wasn't ugly or anything, but I can't quite say that she was pretty either. Her hair was a light brown, I think, and her eyes were rather nondescript. I guess she's just one of those people who have looks that sort of bleed into the background, you know, the ones that just blend in wherever they go."

"Like ghosts," the guard commented, abruptly serious. "She didn't have one defining feature, nothing to remember her by, not even an unforgettable tone to her voice or strange speech pattern?"

"No," Elizabeth realized, shaking her head negatively. "She was just ordinary. There was nothing remarkable about her. That's sad, isn't it?"

"I guess you could look at it that way," Francis agreed with her. "But it's also a trait that could be handy if you were ever trying to hide from someone."

"You're too mistrustful, Donovan, always looking for trouble where it doesn't exist."

He wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders and pulled her in for a friendly hug. "When it comes to you, of course I am. You're not just my job, Squirt; you're my friend, my family."

"I feel the same way about you, too."

"Plus," the blonde added in a mock serious tone, "have you ever seen your boyfriend mad before? There's no way I'm doing anything to his precious girlfriend. Maybe it's just me, but I'd prefer to keep all my appendages in working order."

"Way to ruin a moment," Elizabeth joked affectionately. "Speaking of my boyfriend though, maybe we should get home. After all, I have Halloween costumes to make. Do you have any requests, anything you'd like to see Max or Johnny dressed up as?"

"I might have a few ideas," he winked at her. "Come on," he urged, "I'll tell you about them in the car."

"Well, don't you just look amazing," Bobbie greeted Elizabeth later that week at the Halloween party she was hosting. "Let me tell you how jealous I am of your body. I wish I could wear costumes like that."

"Are you kidding me? If you didn't make it a point to tell everyone here that Michael was your grandson, no one would believe you had a daughter old enough to have a child of her own."

The nurse laughed. "You are now officially my favorite guest. Is there anything I can get you? Have you had anything to eat yet?"

"Actually," the brunette winced, "I figured you'd only have candy, and, though I do love chocolate more than any sane person should, I know better than to make a meal out of it, so I ate before I left home. In fact, if you don't mind, we might skip out early. Michael's really too young to realize what's going on, and I wanted to get him home early enough for Jason to see his costume."

"Jason didn't help you get him ready?"

"He had some business to take care of tonight. That's actually why Max isn't here with us," the nanny shared. "He was scheduled to be our guard this evening, but I prefer for Jason to have the best man available."

Bobbie smiled knowingly, not needing any more information to understand what the younger woman meant. "I was actually surprised that Francis wasn't here tonight with you. Isn't he your personal guard?"

"He is, but he worked his shift during the day, and he needs to be off every once in a while to have some fun, too. In fact, I think he and Johnny were going out tonight."

"Bar crawling for their own version of trick or treat?"

"I don't ask questions," Elizabeth stated, "but, unfortunately, that won't prevent them from sharing. By this time tomorrow night, I'll know more about their personal lives than I ever wanted to."

"You'll just have to return the favor," the medical professional advised, winking at the younger woman. Changing the subject, she asked, "so, tell me, how did you come with Michael's costume? I think he's the first camel I've ever seen."

The artist laughed at the question. "To be honest, I was having the hardest time coming up with ideas. I wanted the three of us to be themed, the guard, Michael, and myself, but, because I got assigned one of the men I don't know as well, I decided to let them off the hook, but that still left us without costumes. As you can see though," she motioned towards the baby in her arms, "because he's teething, he's slobbering like crazy, and, as soon as I thought of slobbering, I thought of how a camel spits on people, and I figured why not go with it, especially since Michael loves animals so much. From there, I thought of dressing up as a belly dancer, and," she held out her free arm, gesturing to show off their appearances, "here we are."

"Well, it's adorable," Bobbie complimented her. "Make sure you let me take a picture of you before you leave, because I have to add this to the scrap book I'm making of my grandson."

"Why don't we go and take it now," the brown haired, blue eyed woman suggested. "If we don't, this little guy might be asleep the next time you have a free moment."

"Alright, stay right here," the nurse instructed her, "and I'll be right back with the camera."

As Elizabeth waited, she sighed, glad that she would be returning home soon. Although it was important for her to give Michael as normal of a childhood as possible, allowing him to do all the things children should experience, on the nights when they were away from the penthouse, she missed their quiet, family evenings with Jason. And, truth be told, sometimes the opinionated and overly friendly redhead made her feel suffocated when she spent time with her. What exactly Bobbie did, Elizabeth wasn't sure, but there was something about the older woman that made her feel uncomfortable. Perhaps it was simply because she was Michael's grandmother, Carly's mother. After all, if the other woman would ever return to town, where would the nurse's loyalty lie – with the person who was best for her grandson, Jason, or with her daughter?

Shoving aside her darker thoughts, the youthful nanny smiled for the camera, proudly displaying the little boy in her arms and their costumes in the picture. Just a few more fake grins and she'd be home where all the phony pretenses could be dropped, and that was something Elizabeth always looked forward to.

Jason moved around his bedroom quietly. Unaware that his girlfriend was still very much awake and waiting up for him, he quickly changed out of his clothes, brushed his teeth, and then climbed into bed, eager to pull Elizabeth's body tightly to his before letting his own tired form relax, but, just as he reached for her, she turned over, smiled up at him, and lifted her arms to welcome him into her own embrace.

"Sorry I'm late. The meeting ran over and…"

"Ssh," she ordered, pressing a single finger against his still open lips. "I understand. You don't have to explain, and, don't worry. I took so many pictures of Michael, you'll feel as if you were here with us while he was getting ready."

"And you?"

With a wrinkled brow belying her confusion, the brunette asked, "me what?"

"Did you get plenty of pictures of you in your costume, too?"

"There are a few, but I did something better than take pictures." With a mischievous gleam in her eyes, Elizabeth revealed, "I made the costume, so, anytime you want a private viewing, all you have to do is ask."

He laughed. "I'd take you up on that offer right now if you weren't already wearing one of my t-shirts…and only one of my t-shirts."

"Do you mind," she asked, holding the grey material away from her chest. "They smell like you, and, since you weren't home yet, it was a way for me to have you here."

"Wear it anytime you want," the mob boss told her sincerely. "In fact, I kind of like it," he divulged, slipping his hands up the back of the loose shirt and letting his palms cup the her bare thighs.

"Alright, I can already see where this is heading, and I definitely don't have any objections, but…can you hold off for about five minutes? There's something I want to talk to you about."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong," Elizabeth was quick to reassure him. "Francis said something to me earlier this week that got me thinking." Noticing that she had captured her boyfriend's attention, the art student pressed on. "He told me that I'm not just his job, that I'm his friend, his family, and it made me think about my own job." Taking a deep breath, she continued, "so I'm giving you my two week's notice."

"What," he asked, flabbergasted. Sitting up in bed, Jason removed his hands from her body and stared at her as if she had gone insane. "But you said nothing was wrong?"

"Everything is wonderful, and maybe that's why I need to do this." Taking in his confused expression, she sighed. "I'm not saying this the right way." Tucking an errant lock of hair behind the delicate shell of her ear, she explained. "What Francis said made me think about my relationship with Michael. You employ me to be his nanny…"

"And you're great at it," the blonde haired, worried man sitting across from her interrupted to say.

"Thank you," the artist said sincerely, "but that is not going to change my decision. To me, Michael is not a job; he's not my charge. I've been with your son, taking care of him, playing with him, waking up with and putting him to bed every night for nine months of his life, loving him." She glanced away, unexpectedly embarrassed about what she was going to admit. "He's not just the little boy I take care of because you pay me to, and he's not the little boy I love because he's your son. To me, Michael couldn't feel any more like my own child even if I had given birth to him myself. And I know that I'm not his mother," Elizabeth rushed ahead before Jason could say anything, "and I'd never tell him that I was; I wouldn't lie to him, but that doesn't stop me from caring for him the same way a mother would. And, because of that reason, I can't let you pay me to do something I would beg to do for free."

"But what about school," Jason asked her. She was thankful that he wasn't arguing with her announcement and that he didn't seem offended or annoyed by what she had said. "You know that I would gladly help you pay for it, just as I know you would never allow me to pay for your college education for you. So, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to get another job. It won't pay as much, and I'll hate it because I'll have to leave Michael some of the time, but this is just something I have to do. It's what feels right."

He smirked, settling back down into the bed and pulling her close against him, kissing the top of her brow. "I can tell that you've already made up your mind, so I won't fight you on this, but, just know, we're not letting you leave. You're still going to live here."

"You'll have no arguments about that from me."

"Good." For a few seconds, they were both silent as they thought about the changes that were about to come to their relationship. "And, so we're straight on a few other things, Michael loves you, too, just like his Dad does." With wide eyes, Elizabeth twisted around to peer up at her boyfriend's smug face. "However, that doesn't mean you're getting out of hiring the new nanny. I already had to go through hell to find you. Now that you're quitting, you're last assignment is to find your replacement."

"You're a brat," she snapped, glaring at him playfully, "and, for that, I'm going to hire a really hot manny, just to torture you."

"Johnny and the boys should have fun with that."

She punched his chest. "You're not even jealous, are you?"

"Nope," Jason shared confidently, "because I know that you love me, too."

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to," he told her, sliding them both down so that they were laying on the bed, his body hovering over hers. "I've known for a long time. I can see it when you look at me."

"Alright, fine," the artist grumbled, rolling her eyes, "I won't hire a manny, but I might try to find someone to set O'Brien up with. After all, every cute, alleged mobster needs his very own Mary Poppins."

"First of all, Johnny is not cute," he corrected her, "and, secondly, he's only a bodyguard for an alleged mobster. Don't inflate his already big ego."

Elizabeth giggled, wrapping her arms securely around his neck and pulling him down for a slow, seductive, delicious kiss. "And that's why I love you," she revealed after separating from their embrace.

"Why, because I'm always right?"

"You are not always right," she shrieked, good-naturedly biting his throat as a form of punishment. Unfortunately for her authority, the gesture turned out to be more like foreplay. "I love you because not only do you make me laugh, but you don't discourage me from playing matchmaker. Do you know how rare of a quality that is to find in a guy?"

"Not really," the blonde Mafioso answered, "but I've also never really looked."

"That's a good thing."

He chuckled, nuzzling her chest covered in nothing but his thin t-shirt. "Alright, I'll accept your two week's notice." After several quiet moments, he locked gazes with her, suddenly serious, and whispered, "happy birthday, Elizabeth."

"Trick or treat, Jason" the brunette returned, lifting her hips to gently rock against his. It was definitely time for them to celebrate, and they both knew exactly how and where they wanted to do so – at home in bed with each other making love. Could a girl ask for anything more for her birthday?


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Elizabeth Webber was a determined young woman, and what she wanted was for her boyfriend to agree to host Thanksgiving dinner that year, inviting their friends and family into their home to celebrate with them. However, she was also a perceptive young woman who understood the various ways of getting a man to do something you wanted him to do for you. It was better to let them think that it was their own idea, and, with Jason Morgan, the easiest time to trick him into doing something was when he was distracted. Though a hard man to sidetrack, she was privy to all his secrets. By the time she was done with him, she knew he would be putty in her hands.

She knocked gently on his office door, letting herself inside before he had given the command to enter. With anyone else, the familiarity would annoy the brooding, blue eyed mob boss, but her antics were not only tolerated but even privately enjoyed. "Do you have time," she asked, pausing right as she passed through the entrance. "I thought I'd surprise you for lunch if you did."

"Hey, yeah," Jason responded, looking up from his desk only to smile in her direction as he waited for her to cross the room and come closer to him. "I wasn't expecting you, but it's fine." Stopping, he tilted his head sideways and observed her curious ensemble, never saying a word though, and the young artist had to stifle a fit of laughter at his reserved behavior. Obviously, she wasn't the only one who was perceptive, and, as a smart guy, the man sitting across from her knew never to question a woman's choice of outfit. Recapturing her attention away from her thoughts, he asked, "where's Michael?"

"He fell asleep in his car seat, so Francis is sitting out in the car with him." There was no sense in adding the little, insignificant detail about her coming up with various unnecessary errands for them to run so that the little boy would tire before they arrived back home at Harbor View towers. Yes, she loved spending time with her favorite eleven month year old, but there were some things she did with his Daddy that required privacy…even from a baby's uninterested eyes.

"Donovan didn't let you walk in here on your own, did he?"

"Of course not," Elizabeth reassured him. "He called ahead and had a guard who could escort me inside meet us in the parking lot, so calm down. I was protected the whole time."

"I know, but with the phone calls only increasing…" His voice trailed off, for he didn't need to continue. They both knew what he was implying.

"It's okay," she said quietly. "You just want to keep me safe," the brunette acknowledged while climbing up to sit on his desk in front of him. "Between you and me, I think it's kind of…sexy."

That captured Jason's attention, and he grinned wickedly. "Oh yeah," he asked rhetorically, his heads finding either side of her hips as he pulled her to the edge of the desk and pushed his chair even closer so that they were practically touching. "So, did you bring lunch with you or did you want to go out to eat?"

"Not so fast," she playfully chastised him. "Who said anything about eating?

"But you said you were surprising me…"

Interrupting him, Elizabeth stated, "so, I've been thinking…"

"About what?"

He was playing right into her hands, and, for asking the exact thing she had wanted him to, the college student rewarded him. Kicking off her round toed, platform pumps, she untangled her crossed legs and let one bare foot run its way intimately up the inside of her boyfriend's jean covered legs. By the time his stunned gaze flew up to meet hers, the dark haired beauty's eyes were already blazing with mischief and passion.

Slowly, she licked her lips before replying. "Thanksgiving and how terrible the weather can be in November sometimes."

"Like today," Jason volunteered. "The roads were a mess when I left for work this morning. They were icy, snow covered, and, with the wind, it was even harder to navigate your way around."

"Exactly," the artist agreed with him. Again, he had said just the right thing. For his second reward, she stripped off her tight, leather gloves, letting them fall to the ground without a second thought or glance. "And, if there is bad weather, it would make no sense to bundle Michael up and carry him around all day long from house to house, risking the chance of getting him sick, but, at the same time,…"

"It's his first Thanksgiving," the blonde Mafioso finished for her, "and I know how important it is to you for Michael to experience all the traditions other children his age get to."

As she plucked off the hat from the top of her head – his third predetermined reward - and tossed it aside, allowing her long, flowing locks to fall graceful down and settle tantalizingly around her neck, shoulders, and back, Elizabeth said, "that's why I was thinking perhaps we should have our own dinner at the penthouse this year. The only problem is…"

"You want everyone you care about and who cares about Michael to be there with us," Jason realized, coming to the most crucial part of her little game. Biting her lip, she said nothing but nodded her head to show that he was right. "I suppose that would be alright," he allowed, chuckling softly when a bright, radiant smile broke across her face and illuminated it. "I take it that's what you wanted me to say?"

Her answer was brief and to the point. "Yep." However, when she started to unbutton the length of her long, winter trench coat, revealing that she had little on underneath it, any more talking would have been superfluous and distracting for them. Although he had earned his final reward, it was one they would undoubtedly both enjoy.

Letting the material fall off her shoulders, Elizabeth sat there on her boyfriend's desk with nothing on but a dainty pair of maroon panties and a matching silk bra. It did not take long for Jason to react. Reaching out, he, once again, wrapped his large, calloused hands around her waist, but, this time, her coat was not in the way, and his touch seemed to burn right through her skin, igniting a flame of desire inside her. He pulled her into his lap, an action that spoke of promise and suggestion for what was to come next, before locking his intense, crystal clear blue eyes with her own deeper ones.

"You know," he teased her, the deep, husky tones of his voice sending butterflies of anticipation swirling deep within her, "not that I didn't enjoy this show you put on for my benefit, but I was going to suggest that we have Thanksgiving at the penthouse without you encouraging me to do so." Laughing, he tugged her body into his and crashed his mouth down over hers, effectively swallowing any thoughts or responses she might have been able to think of. Lunch was suddenly the very last thing on either one of their minds.

It was the Tuesday morning before Thanksgiving break, but, because it was a Monday class – a policy that only made sense to the board members of a college or university and not to the people who worked and attended the institution – to make up for the days they would miss over break, she was sitting beside Carrie in her _History of Organized Crime_ class. Appearing busy, Elizabeth was writing in her notebook, but, despite the fact that she looked like the perfect little student taking her diligent notes, she was actually making a grocery list for the various things they would need for the Thanksgiving dinner she was going to prepare. Although she was mainly a dessert cook (okay, a brownies cook), surely, a turkey and a few side dishes would not be out of her range of skills? Besides, if wanting to give Michael the perfect first Thanksgiving wasn't enough motivation, the fact that Johnny had been taunting her all week and saying that they'd end up having to order in Chinese because she would somehow ruin the meal only served to make her resolution firmer.

Drawling her out of her own thoughts, the youthful artist felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. It was Carrie trying to get her attention, for the other young woman had slid a note onto Elizabeth's desk that she wanted her to read and respond to. _What are you working on? Is it a naughty note for loverboy? _

Despite the brunette's protests, her friend – a woman she only seemed to associate with in class despite numerous attempts to meet her outside of school – insisted upon referring to Jason by the slightly horrifying nickname. If said _loverboy_ ever learned of his lighthearted moniker, he'd probably have a fit. There was no doubt in her mind that he would hate it, and, because of that, she had sworn Carrie to secrecy, forbidding her from mentioning it in Francis' presence…not that her new friend and guard associated much. The other woman claimed the bodyguard made her nervous, and Francis claimed that there was something utterly recognizable about the young woman, but, because he could not place the familiarity, he felt uncomfortable around her. Carrie's background check had panned out, so the security expert did not object to Elizabeth's friendship with her, but, at the same time, he didn't encourage it either. So, they met in class, occasionally had a coffee afterwards in the student union, and, when necessary called each other for homework help. Other than that, their interaction outside of the classroom was non-existent.

_It's a grocery list for Thanksgiving dinner,_ Elizabeth wrote back to her friend. Expanding, she explained, _we're hosting it this year, and it's the first one I've ever cooked, so I'm a little nervous. Jason said he'd help me, but he's just about as hopeless in the kitchen as I am, and, knowing him, he'll be more of a distraction than an actual__assistance…if you know what I mean._

While she waited for Carrie to reply back, the petite artist went back to her grocery list, contemplating what she wanted to buy and prepare. She had already gone around to the various guards who would be joining them for dinner to ask them what their favorite foods were, but they had only seemed to want three things: turkey, pumpkin pie, and beer, claiming that as long as she had those three things and a working television so that they could watch the football games, it would be the best Thanksgiving they'd ever had while still on duty. Typical men, she mused to herself while chewing on her pen – no help at all.

_Note to self,_ Carrie wrote back to her, _never enter or eat anything from the kitchen of Penthouse IV at __Harbor__View__Towers_

Immediately, the brunette scribbled down on the paper, _how do you know where I live?_

_Relax_, her friend responded. _Everyone knows where you live. You and loverboy are only the two most Google'd people in our entire town._

Elizabeth turned to observe the woman sitting beside her. Ignoring the professor's curious glances in their direction, she whispered, "how do you know weird stuff like that?"

Carrie, however, wouldn't risk the wrath of the autocrat at the front of the classroom, and, so, she tapped the paper they had been writing on before jotting down her retort. As she waited rather impatiently for the answer, the former nanny drummed her finely cut nails – long ones would scratch Michael – on the plastic top of her desk. Finally, the note was slipped back towards her.

It read: _I get bored in my computer science course, and the professor is about as sharp as a butter knife. She never notices when we log online and play around the internet, and, when I do that, I like to look up stupid,__trivial facts. _

The blue eyed brunette rolled her eyes and stifled a giggle. Writing on the piece of paper, she taunted her friend. _You are so__odd, do you know that? I think it's time you went out and got a life for yourself._

_Easy said than done_, was the other woman's counter argument.

Biting her lip and directing a sideways look at a bored and slightly oblivious Francis, Elizabeth pondered what she wanted to do next. No, scratch that. She knew what she wanted to do, but she wasn't sure if her bodyguard would approve, and, after all, it was his holiday, too, and she didn't want to ruin it for him. After a moment's thought though, she threw caution to the wind, shrugged her shoulders, and took the plunge. The worst case scenario would be for the older blonde gentleman and her new friend to show up Thanksgiving Day at the same time, but, because she knew they'd have a revolving door of guests, new people arriving and leaving all afternoon, the vivacious artist wasn't too worried that they would be forced to associate with each other, and, even if they did, Carrie would spend most of her time with her, and Francis would sit with the guys, glued to the television.

Putting pen to paper, Elizabeth offered, _then I guess it's time for me to take your social life into my own hands. Why don't you come to the penthouse for Thanksgiving dinner? We'd love to have you, and I guarantee there will be plenty of food to go around. Plus, I'd be able to introduce you to Jason, and then he, in turn, could introduce you to the guys._

Surprised and slightly baffled, the younger woman watched as her friend paled at the invitation and fidgeted in her seat. Apparently, she had said something wrong, but Elizabeth had no idea what. With the lecture the last thing on her mind and the grocery list she had been working on forgotten, she waited and waited for Carrie to either accept or decline her invite, scrutinizing the other woman the entire time. It took the rather mousy woman beside her several minutes to respond, and, even then, her answer was weak and cagey.

_I can't. I wouldn't want to impose upon your family. _

Looking at the words in front of her, the twenty-two year old could have sworn that her friend had pressed down harder on her pencil when writing the word _family. _It almost appeared harsh, angry, even bitter, but, shaking her paranoia off and dismissing it as her own overactive imagination looking for trouble, Elizabeth quickly reacted by writing, _that's ridiculous. We have an open door policy, and, trust me, there's going to be more friends there than family. I only have my Gram, Jason's not in contact with his family, and, besides us, Michael only has his Grandmother. Most of the guests are going to be employees of the Corinthos-Morgan coffee warehouses – the guards, some of the dock workers that Jason's friends with, and his accountant's family. With all those available, hunky guys there, you'd be crazy not to join us._

Just as the professor was wrapping up his lecture, assigning them homework despite it being the day before the start of Thanksgiving break, Carrie wrote back, _thanks but no thanks. I would feel weird being there when I didn't know anyone but you. We'll catch up after break though, maybe go shopping or something. See you later._

And, with that, the older woman disappeared, running out the classroom before Elizabeth even had a chance to respond. As she gathered her things to leave, packing her books away, crumpling up their sheet of notebook paper, and pocketing her grocery list, she thought over her friend's actions. While her absolute refusal to attend dinner was strange, she had, for the first time, suggested they hang out together outside of school, so, maybe, the former nanny thought to herself, Carrie was just shy. And that was certainly nothing to get worked up about. However, for some reason, even as she joined Francis and proceeded to make her way outside to the waiting and warm car, Elizabeth couldn't stop thinking about the other woman's reaction. Something, and she wasn't sure what, just seemed…off.

"Elizabeth," Jason good-naturedly mocked her the next day as they were grocery shopping together, "we're going to need more than just turkey, pumpkin pie, and beer.

Shrugging her shoulders, the brunette, who was sitting inside the cart and snacking on a bag of candy corn while her boyfriend pushed her around the store, retorted, "those are the only three things the guards asked for. Why cook things they won't eat that will only go to waste?"

"Trust me, nothing will go to waste. If it's cooked and it's edible, they'll eat it."

"Alright," she agreed, nodding her head to show her concurrence, "let's get stuff to make chocolate pie as well. Ooh, and brownies," she added, grinning mischievously. "You can't have a proper party without brownies."

"I was thinking more along the lines of some vegetables."

"Nah," she argued, "I'm not a big fan. Let's stick with desserts."

"I thought you said you could handle cooking a proper Thanksgiving meal," the mob boss taunted her. "Are you starting to doubt your ability now that it's less than twenty-four before the big dinner?"

"Stop it," Elizabeth ordered him, pouting. "You're starting to sound like Lurch, and, let me tell you, I don't find that appealing at all."

He laughed, enjoying her adolescent behavior before replying, "just because you don't like vegetables, that does not mean that other people won't want them. Besides, if you want to have a proper Thanksgiving for Michael, there are some things you're going to have to include."

"And how do you of all people know this," the former nanny asked her boyfriend. "From what I've heard from the guys, this is your first real Thanksgiving dinner as well."

Jason shrugged noncommittally, neither confirming nor denying her charge. "I talked to Max. You know how close he is with his Mom, so I figured he'd be able to tell me a few things."

"And what did Tubby say?"

"Elizabeth," the blonde chastised her, rolling his eyes. "Don't attack Max about his weight. He's already sensitive enough."

"True," she conceded. "Alright, I'll behave, and, I have to admit, I'm slightly curious. What else does he want us to make?"

"How do you not already know this," he asked, slightly bewildered by her sheer lack of knowledge on the subject at hand. "I know your family wasn't very conventional, but you did grow up with them…kind of. Didn't you guys celebrate Thanksgiving?"

"My Mom and Dad refused to recognize a holiday that supported and perpetuated such an unhealthy diet. You know," the artist mused out loud, "that's probably why I have such an insane addiction to chocolate and all things sweet. They were forbidden when I was growing up, but, as soon as I was out of my parents' sight, I would scarf down candy bars and cookies faster than a diabetic trying to commit suicide."

Tilting his head, Jason simply regarded her warily. "You're really kind of weird, so it's probably a good thing that there's only one of you."

"I've been called worse things."

Chuckling he asked, "can we go back to talking about vegetables now?"

"Yes, menu Nazi," Elizabeth sighed, exaggerating the action and making it seem like a hardship, "please, proceed to kill my Thanksgiving appetite."

"Anyway, Max said we need mashed potatoes and gravy…"

"Gag me now," the brunette interrupted, making the sound effects to go along with her comment. Her boyfriend simply rolled his eyes and continued.

"He also said there should be stuffing, yams, and cranberry sauce."

"Soggy, seasoned bread, the boring version of sweet potatoes, and bitter, red, chucky applesauce, gotcha."

"Plus, he suggested that we have some other side dishes as well seeing as how there will be so many different people attending the dinner," Jason added.

"And these suggestions were…"

"Corn, either on or off the cob, depending upon what we could get, broccoli, green bean casserole, a relish tray, rolls, both wheat and white so that people could have their choice, a fresh fruit salad, pumpkin roll just in case someone doesn't like pumpkin pie, and a shrimp tray if we want to get fancy, because, sometimes, according to Max, you'll have guests who don't like turkey."

"I like the idea of a shrimp tray," Elizabeth smiled brilliantly, clapping her hands together enthusiastically, "because that's easy. All we'd have to do is pop the top off and, voila, the little crustaceans are ready to eat. As for everything else, you're paying, so I'll make whatever you buy. Just know, the more complicated something is, the less likely it'll turn out."

"Is that why you had the pumpkin pie catered?"

"Damn straight," she replied smartly. "I wasn't risking pissing off the guards. You've seen them hungry. They're worse than a bear that's been roused out of hibernation two months too early."

Leaning over the cart so that their faces were within inches of each other, the Mafioso inquired, "and you know this how?"

She smirked, giving away the fact that she was feeling impish and daring. "It's common sense, _loverboy_.

Surprising her though, Jason simply kissed the tip of her nose before pulling back, but, once she could observe his face again, she knew he still had a warning for her.

"I'd be careful if I were you," the blonde cautioned, "or the next time I'll bite that smart tongue of yours."

"Is that merely a threat or a promise," Elizabeth pondered out loud, wiggling her eyebrows playfully at her boyfriend.

"Watch it, because Johnny's babysitting Michael and we never told him what time we'd be back. There's nothing stopping me from having my way with you as soon as we get back in the car."

"And what about the food," the pixy of a brunette still sitting in the cart and munching on her holiday candy wanted to know.

"It's November, it's below freezing, and we have a big trunk."

"Boy," the sarcastic student teased, winking at the older man pushing her along through the store, "I bet that comes in handy, the big trunk." His glare just made her giggle, so he changed the topic of conversation.

"So, is your Grandmother coming tomorrow?" Nothing was as sobering to Elizabeth's mood as the thought of her Grams.

"Yes, and she's promised to be on her best behavior…which means she'll be polite but cold to you the entire time."

"Everything will be fine," Jason reassured her. "What about that friend from school of yours you mentioned you were going to invite? Is she coming or did she already have plans?"

"Actually," the former nanny confessed, "she reacted really strangely when I asked her to join us. She became all tense and started to fidget, and, before I could even try to convince her to change her mind, she turned me down and ran out of the classroom. It was weird."

He could tell that she was being completely serious, so he didn't tease her as he might have if she didn't appear so distraught over the situation. "And you said that Francis checked this girl out, right?"

"Of course he did, Jason. I know the rules, but, besides the fact that she came up clean, it wasn't as if she was acting suspicious." Pausing for a moment to think, she finally continued, "it was more like she was afraid."

"Of getting caught," he supplied, instantly apprehensive and on guard. "I'm going to look into this further myself, maybe do some digging into the history of any female colleagues."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Elizabeth laughed, waving off his concern. "She's not in the _coffee business_. She's just a rather shy and introverted student."

"Who's cagey about the details of her life, who seamlessly blends into her surroundings without even trying to, and who doesn't have a single noticeable, physical trait to help someone remember her," the mob boss pointed out, ticking off his various points on his hand. "I don't know about you, but, to me, that person sounds very fishy."

She pouted. "Francis talks to you way too much. Doesn't he know how to keep his trap shut?"

"He's just doing his job, and he's doing it well. No one wants to see you taken advantage of or hurt, and, if being a little too precautious will keep you safe, then we're going to be just that." He stopped pushing the cart and came around to stand beside her, ignoring all the curious glances aimed in their direction from the other shoppers. After all, it wasn't every day that a reputed head of a notorious organized crime syndicate was seen grocery shopping with his girlfriend. Leaning down, he whispered, "from the first moment I kissed you, I promised myself that you'd never be hurt by me or my business, that you'd always be happy, healthy, and, most importantly, out of harm's way. If that means I have to be slightly paranoid, then too bad."

"I love you, too," Elizabeth murmured back to him, sealing her declaration with a soft kiss. "However, if you really want to keep me happy and everyone else in this store safe, you might want to get me some more candy corn." Smirking, she explained, "I'm all out."

Jason turned the cart around and started them back on their way to the candy counter. Whatever the petite pixie of a woman wanted, she got, even if she did practically drive her boyfriend to distraction, not that he was complaining though.

It is amazing how different one day, one holiday can be for many different people. Those who gathered at the Morgan-Webber penthouse that Thanksgiving experienced a day they would soon never forget. There were aches and pains, momentous moments, tears of joy and pain, bridges crossed and bridges burned, secrets exposed and made, kisses shared, punches exchanged, and good cheer spread. Everyone came with an empty stomach and left with a content, full belly and a smile on their faces. However, despite its memorable instances, the day was not a perfect one…though some people were unaware of that fact.

Not surprising the host, Johnny O'Brien was the first guest to arrive, and his sole purpose of getting up so early on a day he had off was to distract his friend into ruining dinner. He harassed her, he teased, he confided secrets to her boyfriend that he was sworn to secrecy to keep, little, insignificant secrets that were kept to preserve her pride and not intentionally hurt the man in her life, and he sabotaged, changing the temperatures on the oven when she wasn't looking and dumping extra, unsavory ingredients into the various dishes to ensure that he won their bet. Unfortunately for Elizabeth, they had not made any rules against dirty warfare, and she lost.

Between Max who brought his mother and her glorious cooking skills, Audrey who made several dishes to share, and Bobbie who brought things from Kelly's, the meal had been salvaged, so, in the end, both Johnny and Elizabeth got what they wanted – she failed at cooking Thanksgiving dinner but there had still been enough food to go around for everyone.

Speaking of the young guard, Max had been the picture of refinement, class, and etiquette while his Mom was still at the penthouse, but after Mama Giambetti went home for the evening, being driven by Marco, the stodgy bodyguard who had a fleeting attention span instigated an arm wrestling championship amongst the guards during the commercials of the football games. Although Adam, one of his fellow coworkers had been injured in the competition, Max had been crowned the winner, and his already puffed out chest just became bigger as he swelled with juvenile pride.

As the oldest and most mature of the guards, Francis had ignored his friends' antics and had focused his attention upon having a relaxing day. He helped the women clean up after dinner, washing the dishes for them while they scraped, dried, and put away the various plates, cups, silverware, bowls, and pans, gossiping the entire time. Once the kitchen was spotless, he had played with Michael while Elizabeth and Jason sat and enjoyed their guests, surprising the two parental figures by teaching the eleven month old baby to take his first steps. Despite falling down a few times, the happy little boy would rub his tears away and try again, thrilling everyone gathered in the penthouse to celebrate with him and earning himself several maternal kisses and hugs from Elizabeth and his grandmother and proud smiles from his Dad and the guards. Even Audrey had clapped and cheered for him.

In fact, Audrey had been quite pleasant the whole day. Putting aside her differences with her granddaughter and the man Elizabeth loved, the elderly nurse had found her own way to compliment every person in attendance, even going so far as to hold a real, sincere conversation with Jason. After hearing about the extensive traveling he had done, she had discussed the wonders of the southwestern desert with him, listening to the younger man's recommendations on what she should do and see while in Arizona on her trip there. Elizabeth had even heard the silver haired medical professional slip once and refer to her boyfriend by his first name, but, ever the stubborn woman, Audrey had refused to admit to her lapse in formality.

Benny, Jason's accountant, and his wife had joined their ragtag group later that afternoon, bringing with them several bottles of fine wine and gracious smiles for all. Mrs. Abrams had fit in impeccably with Audrey and Bobbie, and the three women had shared stories and remembrances only women who have lived for many years could have, while Benny joined the men in the living room, even going so far as to enter himself in the arm wrestling contest. Luckily, he had gone up against Johnny who had taken it easy on the older man and just barely beat him to advance to the next round, making sure the high-strung accountant had been spared from injury or embarassment. As predicted, several favored dock workers had joined them, and, surprising everyone there, Jason's lawyer had even dropped by, teasing the younger man that he was going to get billed triple for the holiday excursion.

But the two people who enjoyed themselves the most during the day easily were Jason and Elizabeth. Between having their friends and family there with them, not having to go out into the upper New York blizzard raging outside the protective walls of Harbor View Towers, getting to spend a quiet evening in alone with their little boy after everyone had left, and getting to see Michael take his very first steps, for them, the day had been pretty idealistic. However, while they had been smiling and laughing, flirting and teasing, talking and playing with each other and their guests, distracted by the sheer happiness they were experiencing, they both missed something very important.

They missed Barbara Jean Spencer taking Polaroid pictures of Michael, of her slipping the photos into an envelope that contained a long, detailed letter to a secret someone, and they missed the nostalgic, almost regretful looks that crossed the redhead's face every time she looked at her grandson. To the casual observer, nothing seemed amiss with the middle aged nurse. She smiled when she was supposed to, said all the right things when conversing with someone in conversation, and brought and did everything one would expect from a gracious guest, but there was underlying sadness to her brown eyes, a sadness that prompted her to act so mysteriously when no one was watching. The decisions she made that day were ones she'd never be able to take back; she had crossed a point of no return, and, eventually, nothing would ever be the same for anyone who had shared Thanksgiving dinner in Penthouse IV of Harbor View Towers. The only problem was that no one had seen her deceit coming, so no one took actions to prevent it, but, even if they had, too many events were already in motion, and, like a tidal wave climbing ever higher above their heads, nothing could stop it from coming crashing down.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Locked away high above the rest of Port Charles in Penthouse IV of Harbor View Towers, Elizabeth Webber was perfectly content to spend the rest of her day in bed doing nothing but letting her boyfriend hold her. The snow falling gracefully outside their bedroom windows seemed to blanket the rest of the world, somehow softening its lines and harsh realities, helping to keep her hidden away from the cold and the fear life can sometimes deal you. And with Michael still sound asleep, coffee and hot chocolate, pancakes and eggs, morning showers and winter clothes were the last things on the young artist's mind. Instead, she was focused solely on the feeling of being cocooned by Jason's embrace. Resting between his bare legs, their comforters wrapped tightly around her own chilled body, she was leaned back into his arms, her head resting against the steady, hypnotic beat of his heart pounding away inside his still golden chest. Occasionally, he would brush his lips across her brow, run his calloused hands down from her shoulders to her delicate wrists, wrapping their fingers together in a comforting clinch, or squeeze her hips with his strong thighs, the erotic movement a reassurance of their connection and a promise of their future. Despite the intimacy of their moment or maybe because of it, neither one of them spoke; they simply enjoyed the silence.

Surprising her, it was Jason who actually spoke first, a rarity in their relationship. "Michael's birthday is coming up soon."

Playing with the soft, fine hairs on the back of his hands, she agreed, "the end of the week." Sighing wistfully, she continued, "it's hard to believe that he's going to be a year old, that he's no longer a baby but a toddler. I mean, he's walking already, soon he'll be talking, and then there will be potty training, preschool, and girls."

"I think you're rushing things a bit too quickly," Jason chuckled, amused by the slight note of panic he detected in her voice. "Why don't we worry about the now and let the future happen when it will."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, pouting despite knowing he was right. "You make it sound so easy."

"It is, and I'll prove it to you." By placing a lone digit under her chin, he tilted her head back to look at him. "I'm not really sure about these things, so I figured I'd ask you. What are parents supposed to do for their kids on their first birthdays?"

"All we have to do is make sure that he enjoys the day," the brunette answered, smiling up at the man she loved. "Before I say anything else, do you have any ideas? Is there anything you want to do for him or get him?"

"Well, I know you're big on family events, but I was thinking maybe this could be something private, just the three of us. The guards and Bobbie can stop in and see him during the day if they want to, but Michael always seems the happiest when it's just the three of us."

"I like that idea," she concurred readily. Unable to not touch him, she lifted her hand to his face and caressed his jaw line, the day old stubble growing on his chin rasping against the velvety softness of her soothing fingertips. "Anything else?"

"Birthday cake," Jason said quickly. "I might not like the stuff, but I think you've passed along your love of sweets to our little boy." Her eyes lit up when he referred to the child they both loved with all their hearts as their own. "And I'll even agree to party hats, but I draw the line at those stupid noise makers that people blow on. Why would anyone want to listen to that racket?"

"Kids like them because they annoy their parents," she teased him, pressing her hands against his chest so she could lean up and place a light, whispering kiss across his lips. "But I agree - no party horns. Besides, Michael hates loud noises. That's something he gets from his Daddy. What about presents," she wondered out loud. "I know we should get him some new winter clothes, but he's going to want some toys to unwrap, too."

"Look through the catalogs," he instructed her, "make up a list of things you like, and then I'll do some research, check everything out for their customer reviews and safety standards, and narrow down the list."

Wanting more from him, Elizabeth decided to play dirty. Twisting around, she changed her position in his lap and straddled him, her knees bent and her legs pressed up against the outside of his. Her t-shirt, one of his that she liked to sleep in, rode up on her thighs and allowed him a generous view of creamy, supple limbs. His hands automatically settled on the bare skin. Moving in so that her chest was pressed up against his, she went to kiss him again, only stopping to pull away, her eyes gleaming impishly, to ask him a question. "Are you going to go shopping with me then?"

"I don't know."

Objecting to his wrong answer, she put more distance between them. "Why wouldn't you?"

"If I want to take off the whole day for Michael's birthday, then I'm going to have to rearrange my schedule and work all my meetings in during the week."

"Oh," the college student paused, her brow wrinkling in thought. She didn't move further away from him or closer, instead remaining in the same position. Finally deciding on sulking as her next move, she playfully punched his arm. "Quit doing that, Morgan!"

"Doing what?" His furrowed expression spoke of his confusion.

"Saying the wrong thing but making it the right thing at the same time." Her explanation did not clear up his bewilderment. "I want you to go shopping with me, but how can I argue with you working hard so that you can take off your son's birthday. You're impossible to fight with and be mad at, do you know that?"

This time he grinned widely, a pleased light making his crystal clear blue eyes glow. "That's a good thing, right?"

"No!"

The mystification was back again. "It's not?"

"Of course it isn't," Elizabeth snapped, glaring at him, "for several reasons. First of all, if we don't fight, then I can't win an argument, and I really like to win. Secondly," she ticked off her grounds on the ends of her delicate fingers, "if you don't make me mad, then you never have to make it up to me, and I think we both know I like to be spoiled. And, finally, if we don't bicker, then we don't get to have make up sex, and I've heard it's pretty awesome."

He quirked one sandy colored brow at her. "So, are you saying our sex life needs improvement?"

"Jason," she huffed, obviously frustrated. Blowing a distracting curl of hair out of her face, she continued. "You're missing my point here."

"No," he disagreed, "I don't think I am." That got her attention and she cocked her head to watch him thoughtfully. "You're annoyed right now, right; I'm annoying you?" Showing her concurrence, the brunette nodded her head. "And your irritation with me is making you feel exasperated and riled?"

"You're damn straight you're pissing me off!"

"So then I do have something to make up to you," the mob boss stated impertinently, "and, technically, since we're quarrelling, albeit slightly playfully, I guess if we'd make love right now, it could even qualify as make up sex."

Elizabeth scoffed. "If you think I want to have sex right now, buddy, you're delusional."

"I'm not so sure about that," Jason taunted her, flipping them over so that he was braced on top of her before she could even respond. Rocking his hips into her own, she immediately reacted. Lowering his mouth to hers, he asked, "now what were you saying again about not being in…" the rest of his words were swallowed when she lifted her head up and kissed him forcefully.

Just as the snow and silence had provided them with a private oasis moments before, everything else in the world disappeared again as Jason and Elizabeth lost themselves in each other, except this time every thought but those about each other vanished, leaving the lovers blissfully unaware of everything but the feelings and sensations they were awakening within their partner's body. It was quite the way to start the morning.

Francis Donovan wasn't what others considered a ladies' man. He didn't have any sisters and rarely spent time with his Mom, his dating life was almost non-existent thanks to the fact that he was practically the job 24/7, and, speaking of his work, _importing coffee_ was definitely a male dominated profession. So, he wasn't exactly schooled in the ways of women. However, as he followed his young charge around the department store that afternoon as she shopped for baby clothes, even he knew that there was something odd about her conversation with Carrie. It wasn't pleasant small talk, they weren't discussing school, and the older of the two girls certainly wasn't sharing any of her own personal information. Instead, Elizabeth was doing all the talking, and her new friend was directing the conversation as surely as a conductor directed an orchestra.

The guard didn't blame his charge for not realizing what was going on. With little female companionship of her own, he knew that Elizabeth was desperate for a friend, someone her own age and sex who could commiserate about school, laugh over her stories, and give her relationship advice. The problem was that Carrie did none of those things for the burgeoning artist, and he had no idea how to point out the older woman's flaws and deficiencies.

"You're not only getting Michael clothes for his birthday, are you," the forgettable college student asked the petite brunette who was standing beside her and rifling through a rack of toddler jeans. "That seems a little boring."

"No, of course not," Elizabeth answered, not even looking up from her browsing. "I decided to split my shopping into two days so it's not as stressful. Besides, Johnny wanted to go with me when I buy the toys, so he's going to switch jobs with Francis tomorrow and come along." Laughing to herself, she finally looked up and met her friend's gaze. "You should see the list of toys Jason and I picked out. It's insane, but, when it comes to Michael, I just can't help myself. I want that little boy to have everything and anything in this world." Pausing for a moment, she clarified, "and I'm not just talking about material possessions either. He's going to have the best life his Daddy and I can give him."

"Including siblings?"

Carrie's question made the former nanny stop in her tracks, turn around, and stare at the other woman with wide, surprised blue eyes. Finally, she queried, "why would you ask that?"

"Well, you're always talking about how much you love your boyfriend…"

"No, I doubt," Elizabeth interrupted her. "I rarely talk about my relationship with Jason, because, besides it not being anyone else's business besides mine and Jason's, I also know that you're single, and I would feel strange discussing how happy I am when you're alone."

"It's implied then," the older woman argued. "You might not shout your feelings from the rooftop or take out a full page ad in the paper, but it's pretty obvious. I can hear it in your voice when you talk about him, see it in your eyes. Maybe I'm jumping to conclusions, but you have a steady, successful relationship with your boyfriend, and you both enjoying raising his son together. I didn't think it would be too big of a stretch to assume the two of you would want to have more children together."

"It's too soon."

Carrie watched her closely. "So then you do want more kids?"

Continuing as if she hadn't heard her friend's question, the painter explained, "I'm only twenty-two, I still have a year and half left of school, and Michael's too young for us to be even thinking about having a baby together."

"I noticed you didn't say anything about not being married. Would you have a kid with Jason even if you two weren't?"

As if she was playing catch up, Elizabeth addressed her friend's previous inquiry. "Do I want more kids; do I want more kids with Jason? Yeah, I guess I do." The young brunette's gaze became distant as she got swept away into the future, into images of what her future could entail. "I want us to go through pregnancy together. I want to feel Jason's baby growing inside of me, and I want him to drive me crazy for nine months as he worries about every change in my body and every kick the baby offers my ribcage. I want to yell at him when I'm giving birth and threaten to never let him touch me again, only to kiss him as soon as our baby is placed in my arms. And, crazy enough," she laughed, wiping away a tear that had managed to find it's way onto her glowing, dream filled face, "I think I want to do this several times. So, yes, someday I want to have more children with Jason."

"And what about him," Carrie pressed the younger woman for more information. Her voice held a hint of coldness, of anger, but, as he watched his charge smile to herself and bite her lip in sheer wonder at the idea of having a baby, Francis knew he was the only one to recognize the other woman's persistent questioning. "Do you even know what Jason wants?"

Caught off guard, Elizabeth blinked several times before responding. "What," she asked for a lack of something better to say. Shaking her head, she regained her bearings. "I guess he wants more children. I don't know. It's not really something we've talked about yet."

"If he was serious about your relationship and your future, you'd think the issue of babies would have come up at least once so far. What about birth control," the mousy woman suggested, waving her hand towards the former nanny to make her point. "You're on it, aren't you?"

Suddenly, the conversation had veered into dangerous territory for the bodyguard. While he wouldn't leave his charge or shirk his duties, Francis certainly did not want to hear about or know about the intimate details of his boss' sex life with a woman the security expert considered the closest thing to a sister that he'd ever had. Luckily for him, Elizabeth seemed just as put out by the inquiry.

"Excuse me, but I don't think that's any of your business. Have Jason and I discussed children," she repeated an earlier question that her friend had asked. "No, we haven't, but that does not mean that we, someday, won't have them together. Jason's a wonderful father to Michael. He loves that little boy more than life itself, so I know that he will one day want to have another baby or two, but, like I said, neither of us are thinking about having a kid at this time. As for needing to be married before we have a child together, that would be almost hypocritical on our parts. We live in the same house, share a bed, and raise his son together as our own. Obviously religion and its rules mean little to us."

"It's one thing to make that decision for yourselves," Carrie stated, "but it's another thing to make it for an innocent baby who can't make its own decisions."

Barely concealing her anger, the art student stepped closer to her friend and narrowed her gaze. When she spoke, her tone was clipped and laced with rage and resentment. "Until you become a mother, do not judge me or act as if you know what's best for my family better than I do."

Francis watched the older woman for signs of her reaction to Elizabeth's words. Jason's check into the business to see if there were any female enemies they had to watch out for came back clean. Not only were the streets quiet, but no one fitting Carrie's description was even involved in their world. However, that did not alleviate their suspicion of the stranger, but, until they had reason to really suspect the other woman of doing something wrong, they could do nothing but keep an eye on her and make sure that Elizabeth was protected. Seeing Carrie's response to his charge's angry words, a visible recoil as if the brunette's words had struck her friend someplace she was vulnerable and caused maximum damage, made the security expert wonder if they were approaching the situation from the wrong direction. Maybe Carrie's interest in Elizabeth wasn't professional but personal.

With his suspicions to keep him occupied, Francis continued to pay attention to the two women as they finished their shopping. After changing the subject and, at least, leaving behind their animosity on a surface level, the college students discussed Elizabeth's decision to not hire a nanny until the first of the year. The younger of the two girls explained how, with the holidays quickly approaching, it not only would be difficult to find a replacement but also unnecessary because she was off from school, and the older of the two girls agreed readily and actively avoided disagreeing on any subject matter. It didn't take them long to find their last purchases and to check out, and Francis took a deep breath of relief as soon as Carrie stepped foot on the bus and he and Elizabeth pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to Harbor View Towers. Something, and he wasn't quite sure what, was off about his charge's friend, and, if he could, he was going to make sure he figured it out before things got out of hand…if they hadn't already.

Jason thought he was sly. He thought that he was smooth, and sneaky, and stealth, but she always knew when he was watching her. The air in the room became thicker and she could sense his gaze upon her, burning into her, and it never failed that when she felt his eyes upon her, she would shiver. It was an erotic sensation, one that she knew she had to suppress as she bathed Michael the evening of his birthday.

"Don't just stand there on the sidelines, Morgan," she broke the moment, looking up from her task at hand to smirk at her boyfriend. "Come over here, be a team player, and help a girl out."

Stubborn as always, he folded his arms across his t-shirt clad chest. "Can't. I don't take baths. We've already covered this."

Despite herself, Elizabeth laughed. So far he had proved to be quite adept at avoiding her bubble bath advances. "You don't have to get in the tub with us," she responded. Michael had proved to be so difficult to bathe, that she had decided to just climb into the whirlpool with him, completely clothed. "But an extra pair of hands couldn't hurt. You know, the sooner he's asleep, the sooner we can…go to bed."

That got the results it was intended to. Crossing the room in a few quick strides, the mob boss was at their side, kneeling down with what were supposed to be intentions to help, but, as soon as she saw the wicked set of his jaw, she knew she was in trouble. When Jason spoke again, she could hear the curious tone of his voice. "Why did you let him play this long?" While he had stayed downstairs to clean up the mess from dinner, she had taken Michael up to get the one year old ready for bed. "You two are going to be shriveled beyond recognition by the time you get out of that tub."

"Well, although he had his cake, he didn't eat it. Instead, I figured I'd let him play in it a little longer. Plus, you know how much he loves bath time."

Picking up the washcloth, he wrung out some of the water, effectively getting all of it on her, before taking the rag and wiping off his little boy's chocolate covered neck. By smearing and smashing his birthday cake, the toddler had gotten his food everywhere – between his toes, inside his ears, in the creases behind his chubby, little knees, and it was stuck on. Simply sitting in the lukewarm water would not clean the baby off; they were going to have to scrub it away, something Michael hated.

"Keep distracting him," Jason suggested while he ran the cloth across his son's back, "and, while the two of you play, I'll clean him off."

"Is everything put away in the kitchen, or are we going to have to go back down once he's asleep for the night," Elizabeth wanted to know.

"It looks just like it did before you started baking this afternoon."

"Oh, good," the brunette smiled up at her boyfriend. "Looks like I'm going to have to think of a way to thank you."

"I have a few ideas if you need some suggestions."

Rolling her eyes, she returned his earlier favor and splashed him. "I'm sure you do."

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Webber," Jason teased her. "I'm not after your body."

"You're not?"

"Okay, so I am," he corrected his statement, "but that's a completely different conversation, one we'll have later when we're alone. Right now, I'm thinking about this Christmas shopping idea you had."

"Nice try, but you're not getting out of it," the art student stopped him before he could go any further. "I know you hate shopping, and that you hate crowds, and that you really don't get why people get so worked up over one day, but I like Christmas, and we're also doing it for Michael. He'll be able to actually enjoy it this year. We'll decorate a tree together, stay up late and pretend to be Santa, and then Michael will open his presents Christmas morning. Although he'll probably like the paper better than the actual gifts, all kids are like that."

"A tree?"

"Of course we're getting a tree," she quickly stated, leaving no room for argument. "It's tradition, one I want us to start for Michael. Besides, we need one for the presents. Where else would we put them all?"

"Fine," Jason relented, "but it has to be a small tree. And no blinking lights," he added, punctuating his request by tossing the wash cloth at her and further getting her wet. "They give me a headache."

"I can work with those stipulations." Because Michael was finished, she helped him lift the little boy from the tub and wrap him in a towel before wondering out loud, "how do you feel about stockings and mistletoe?" She had to remain in the whirlpool so that, once they were gone, she could wash and change for bed.

"I prefer your legs without stocking," the blonde Mafioso answered, "but I really don't know what that has to do with Christmas. As for mistletoe, you can get some, but you better not hang it in a place where anyone else will be able to stand with you underneath it. I don't need O'Brien getting any ideas."

Elizabeth shuddered. "That's just gross, the idea of Johnny kissing me. Nix on the mistletoe idea." Pausing for a moment to refocus, she stood up in the tub and peeled off her soaking shirt, tossing the wet fabric onto the floor to land just in front of his bare feet. "As for the stockings, I met to hang on the fireplace mantle."

"That sounds like a fire hazard."

Standing there in several inches of warm water dressed only in her heavy jeans and a bra, the diminutive brunette glared at her boyfriend, stomped her foot, and yelled, "you are not going to be play a Grinch and spoil Christmas for Michael, do you hear me?" Before he could respond, she continued. "And you're going shopping with me. We're going to buy presents for all our friends and family, we're going to pick out a tree together and find other decorations, and you're going to like every single moment of it."

Grinning crookedly, Jason tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. "And if I don't?"

"No sex for a month," Elizabeth announced, turning around to unsnap her bra. She could still feel him standing behind her, staring with a shocked expression on his rugged face. With her hands covering her bare breasts, she stepped out of the tub, keeping her back towards him, and moved towards the shower. "If you don't believe me, why don't you try testing my resolve?"

"I'll be the merriest miserable bastard in town if that's what you want, but you better still be in the shower waiting for me when I get back."

Threat issued, she heard her boyfriend leave the bathroom, so she finished getting undressed and slipped into the glass stall to wash her hair, the water so hot there were clouds of steam already rolling through the lavish, marble covered ensuite. It had been easier than she thought it would be to get Jason into the holiday spirit. Now all she had to do was get the guards to wear Santa hats, figure out what she was going to get her humbug boyfriend for Christmas, and manage to kiss Jason at the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve. If she did that, then it would be official: her twelve months living in Penthouse IV would be the best year of her life. Surely, in the month to come, nothing would go wrong to ruin her plans…right?


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Elizabeth was contemplating the idea of moving and not liking any of her options when she heard the two men in her life coming downstairs, and, smiling up at them from her position on the couch, her bright grin beckoning them to her side, she immediately started talking as was her habit.

"Do you know how obscenely large trucks have two gas tanks, the main one and then a reserve one?"

Before replying, Jason settled down on the couch beside her, lifting her legs to rest against his lap. She held her arms out for Michael, and he easily passed the one year old to her. "I assume there's a point to this question," he asked, smirking at her attempt to sit the little boy on her abdomen but, immediately reconsidering the idea and wincing in discomfort, she moved him up to rest against her chest, "and, before you say anything, yes, I know what you're talking about."

"Well, people should have an extra gas tank, too. I ate so much food during breakfast, I have no idea where I'm going to fit lunch, and Grams will kill me if I don't eat."

"Yeah, but will eating more kill you, too?"

The art student frowned as she contemplated her boyfriend's inquiry. "I'm not sure, but I'm going prepared."

Surprising her, Jason had woke her up early that morning with a decadent breakfast in bed, catered, of course, for neither of them could really cook. They had lounged together for over an hour, eating at a leisurely pace, and enjoying their quiet, alone time before Michael had stirred and the festivities of the day officially began. After climbing out of bed, she had gone into the nursery to get their little boy while he had carried the dishes down to the kitchen, putting the leftovers in the fridge and placing the soiled plates and utensils in the dishwasher. From that point on until they separated to get ready for lunch at Audrey's, the morning had been all about Michael, helping him open his presents, taking pictures of him sitting in an enormous pile of wrapping paper, and setting up his new toys. So far, for Elizabeth, it had been her dream Christmas.

The blonde mob boss eyed her closely. "Just exactly what do you mean by prepared? What did you do?"

Playfully glaring at him, she replied, "it's nice to see how much faith you have in me. For your information, I just dressed to accommodate a swollen stomach, so there's room for further extension at my Grandmother's."

"You're wearing your robe?"

"Of course not," Elizabeth dismissed, rolling her eyes at him. "I have clothes on underneath my robe."

"What a shame," Jason complained, his shoulders, to play along with moment and mimic his put upon mood, drooping in despondency.

Turning to smile at Michael, she teased, "your Daddy is a silly, silly boy, isn't he?"

"Boy?"

Letting her eyes move back to her boyfriend, she persisted. "An adolescent, naughty, smartass, horny teenage boy who better behave himself this afternoon or we'll end up spending Christmas in the emergency room after my Grams has a heart attack."

"Guess I should have my fun now then," he realized. Before she could comment, he slid his hands underneath the folds of her robe, letting his fingers wander up her bare calves, past her knees, and onto her thighs before he stopped when he encountered fabric. "You wore a skirt?"

"A dress," the brunette beauty corrected, shifting on the couch until his traveling hand was trapped between her legs, stopping its progression. "I'm going to freeze which means that, by tonight, my recently shaved legs will be nice and raspy against yours in bed."

"It won't be the first time."

Despite reaching out with her arm that was not wrapped around Michael and slapping her boyfriend, Elizabeth simply ignored his comment and continued explaining her wardrobe choice. "However, the dress is also loose and relaxed, so nothing will be cutting into my belly or squeezing my sides after Grams stuffs us so full of food we'll be stuck sitting at the dining room table all day, talking to her, because our bodies are too uncomfortable to move."

"Plus," he added with a cheeky grin, "it'll keep me entertained when you and your Grandmother start talking about…girl stuff."

"Morgan, there's no ifs, ands, or buts about it. You're a dork." Laughing at him, she continued. "Girl stuff consists basically of guy talk. We might deviate towards clothes or makeup, but everything always comes back to the men in our lives, and, I don't know about your relationship with your Grandmother, but I sure as hell don't talk about you with my Grams if I can help it."

Jason narrowed his gaze at her. "So what do you do, compare notes?" Luckily, before she could reply, Michael started fussing, apparently tired of listening to the adults speak, chewing on his hand, and playing with Elizabeth's nose. "Alright, Buddy," he placated his son, moving to get up off of the couch but giving up when she wouldn't budge her legs, "we're going…as soon as someone lets me up."

"We can't leave yet," the young painter persisted with her refusal to allow him to move. "I still have one more gift for you, and it'll be too late to give it to you when we get home."

"But we'll be back early because we have to put Michael to bed."

"He is the gift though…well kind of." Noticing her boyfriend's perplexed expression, she waved off his unvoiced questions, shifted on the couch to sit up some, and said, "you'll see. Just be patient." Gaining Michael's attention by smiling widely at the toddler and taking his tiny, chubby fists and holding them in her own, she explained. "We've been working on this for a while now, and, although he hasn't officially done it yet, he was pretty close last night when you were getting my gift from Johnny and talking to the guards."

"Wait," Jason interrupted her account. "How do you…you weren't supposed to know that. Were you spying on me?"

"Please, like I would have to resort to such devious tactics. I worked everything out with Lurch, told him to make sure that you were distracted for a while so Michael and I could get in some more practice time before you came home last night."

"But how did you know about the gift? Did O'Brien tell you what it was?"

"No, absolutely not," Elizabeth reassured him, softening her eyes and begging him with the matching pools of liquid blue to relax and just listen to her. "I had no idea what my present was until I opened it this morning. Johnny wouldn't do that to you; he wouldn't spoil your surprise. He just mentioned to me that he was picking it up for you to make sure that I wouldn't mind, and I reassured him that as long as the idea was yours, I didn't care who made sure it got here safely." Wanting to save her friend any backlash her accidental reveal may cause, she pressed. "He was just watching your back, making sure you didn't get in trouble with your girlfriend."

"Do all the guys check with you on things I tell them to do before they actually do it?"

She pondered his question for a moment before shaking her head and nodding. "Yeah, pretty much, but this is beside the point, Jason. I'm supposed to be giving you your final present."

"Go ahead," he consented, letting go of their conversation.

"Alright now, Michael," the former nanny urged the one year old in her arms, "you can do this. I know you can." Grinning in an encouraging manner, she looked the little boy in the eye and instructed, "say Daddy, Sweetie. Dada, Dada." Instead of repeating after her, the toddler laughed, drooled, and looked towards Jason who, without Elizabeth seeing, simply nodded and winked at his son. "You were at least making noises last night," she started to plead. "Please, Michael, say Daddy." Turning towards her boyfriend, she confessed, "I've been practicing this with him for almost two months now. I thought we'd have it down, but someone," she playfully yelled, narrowing her eyes and making the little boy she was holding giggle some more, "isn't very cooperative." Trying again, she implored, "Dada, Dada…Dada?"

"Bet."

With wide eyes, she stared at the child before her, stunned. "Wha…what?"

Amazed, the college student watched as Michael lifted one of his pudgy hands and touched her cheek softly, repeating himself. "Bet."

"It seems as if we've both been working with him, trying to get him to say his first word," Jason commented, but, still, she never took her eyes off the one year old sitting on her chest. "I figured Elizabeth would be too complicated for him, and I know you don't like Lizzie or Liz, so we practiced with Beth. I considered Mommy, but I wasn't sure if you'd want him to call you that."

"I would love him to call me Mommy," she confessed tearfully, letting her emotions show through and doing nothing to hide them, "but Beth is just as wonderful." Finally looking at her boyfriend, she exclaimed, "I can't believe my name is his first word."

Leaning down across her, the Mafioso delicately placed a lingering kiss upon her plump, red limps. "Merry Christmas, Elizabeth."

"So."

Jason Morgan was not normally a man who engaged himself in small talk. In fact, he wasn't even sure if he had the aptitude to, but never before in his life had he felt the urge to try more than he did at that very moment. Lunch had been finished, and the four of them had retired into the living room. Unfortunately, Elizabeth followed quickly by Michael fell asleep almost as soon as they sat down on the couch. So there he was with his slumbering son in his left arm and his girlfriend curled into his right, her legs folded up underneath her and the blanket they were sharing despite the fact that he was roasting, and only the sound of the ticking grandfather clock in the foyer broke the monotony and silence of the afternoon. Neither he nor Audrey could think of anything to say to one another, so, instead of talking, they simply…stared.

Clearing his throat, he tried again, repeating himself and feeling like an uncouth fool. "So…"

"My granddaughter is certainly exhausted, Mr. Morgan. It's a shame. We haven't had much time recently to spend with each other, and I was hoping to catch up with her this afternoon."

"Oh, well, we were up late last night." As soon as his words left his mouth, the blonde businessman winced. It was definitely not the right thing to say to his girlfriend's grandma, and her expression, a mixture of shock and dismay, further proved his point. "You know," he clarified, "we had presents to wrap and set up. Plus, she made us eat all the cookies she set out with Michael, and there were a lot of cookies."

"Elizabeth has always liked her sweets."

The quiet descended upon them again, and, literally needing to block out the sound of time moving slowly, Jason found himself initiating conversation and actually offering more information. "We were up early this morning, too."

"Oh," the elderly nursed asked, "does Michael still not sleep in?"

"No, I surprised Elizabeth with breakfast in…" His words trailed off to the point where his sentence went unfinished, but the thought was still hanging heavily in the air between them. There was no way he was saying the word bed in from of Mrs. Hardy. "Then Michael got up, and we opened presents."

"What did you get my granddaughter for Christmas, Mr. Morgan?"

"She um…about a month ago," he shared, "she took me to the art gallery in town, and she really liked this painting that reminded her of our vacation to Puerto Rico. It actually looked like the view from our room."

"The two of you were sharing a room that long ago?"

"No, Ma'am," Jason quickly defended himself, negating her question. "I meant from our suite. She had her own room the whole time we were on vacation."

Audrey nodded. "I see. Continue."

"So, after we left the gallery, I called and got the contact information for the artist and then commissioned him to go down to the villa and paint an actual depiction of our private beach."

"I can tell that you put a lot of thought into the gift," the older woman replied. He knew it was the closest thing he'd ever get to a compliment from her. "It gives me hope that you might help me with something."

"Sure," the Mafioso quickly answered. "Just name it, and I'll see what I can do."

"Elizabeth's gift certificate that I got her, I want that to be spent on my granddaughter and not on your son."

"Excuse me?"

"She loves your little boy so much, Mr. Morgan, and I know that she rarely treats herself to new, special things. I don't want her to use my present to buy Michael new clothes. I want her to get something for herself." Narrowing her gaze, Audrey wondered out loud, "can you handle that, or does my granddaughter have you wrapped as tightly around her little finger as I think she does?"

He actually coughed at the comment, embarrassed that even such a harmless, elderly woman could realize just how much he cared for the brunette pixy who had marched into his life almost a year before and turned it upside down. "I promise that she'll spend the gift certificate on herself. Even though I hate it, I'll even go shopping with her to guarantee it."

"Thank you."

Once again, their discussion ceased to flow. While Jason fidgeted and desperately wanted to reach up and pull on the collar of his tight fitting, black sweater, Audrey watched the flames dancing around and through the wood in the fireplace. Finally, needing to say something, he cleared his throat. "You know, Michael, even though he can't say it, loves Elizabeth just as much as she loves him."

The nurse met his gaze before responding. "I hope so, Mr. Morgan."

"And I don't think of her as just my son's former nanny or my girlfriend. She's the only mother he's ever known."

"I don't mean to be rude, but why are you telling me this?"

"Because you love Elizabeth, and she loves both you and Michael, and, even though I know you don't necessary like me, I don't see a reason why you can't be a part of my son's life. I mean," he swallowed roughly due to nerves, "can a kid have too many grandmas?"

Surprising him, the older woman smiled. "I suppose not."

"I think Elizabeth would like it if you and Michael could have a relationship," Jason revealed. "She's never said anything to me, but I know her, and I think it would mean a lot to her if you could accept my son…our son as a part of your life."

"And there's no time like the present to start, right," Audrey asked, quirking her brow at him in silent challenge.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, New Year's Eve is coming up, and, even though I've been single for a few years now, I do still remember what it was like to be young and in love. It's a night to spend with your significant other and not taking care of a one year old. So," she pressed, folding her dainty, wrinkled hands in her lap, "I propose that you allow me to watch Michael that night while you take my granddaughter out on a well deserved date."

"You would do that," he queried, shocked by her suggestion. "For us?"

"If you are you asking me if I approve of you, your reputed job, or your relationship with my granddaughter, then the answer is no, I don't, but it doesn't matter what I think. I've realized that Elizabeth is old enough to make her own choices, whether they are mistakes or not, and, putting everything else aside, I want to see her happy. For some reason, Mr. Morgan, you make her happy."

"You do realize that I'll have to post a guard or two here that night?"

"As long as they are discreet and do not expect me to cook or clean up after them," the elderly nurse bargained, "then I'll be able to tolerate their presence. Mr. Donovan should suffice," she continued. "I've met him on several occasions, and, while he seems professional and quite…competent, he's also polite and conscientious."

"That's Gram's way of saying that she thinks he's a looker, isn't it, Gram," Elizabeth asked as she startled both her grandmother and her boyfriend by speaking up and teasing the older woman.

"Dear, just how long have you been eavesdropping on our conversation and pretending to be asleep," Audrey wanted to know.

"Long enough to tell Morgan here," she teasingly elbowed Jason in the side, "that La comes after So."

Audrey laughed at her granddaughter's joke, and, while he continued to ponder what exactly she meant and what kind of gibberish the burgeoning artist was speaking, the two women settled into an easy exchange, perfecting the small talk he had been searching for just a few minutes earlier. However, despite his social awkwardness, it seemed, at least to him, that he and Mrs. Hardy had reached somewhat of an understanding that afternoon. Perhaps, Jason figured, there really was something to all the Christmas garbage people spewed, for, if nowhere else in the world, in their little corner of it, there was peace on earth and good will towards men. Maybe his and Audrey's truce was their holiday miracle…or his girlfriend had laced the dessert with something of a high alcoholic proof. Considering his options, the brooding blonde decided he would rather bet on the latter choice. It seemed more probable.

"Come in, Pint-sized Picasso, come in."

Carrie regarded the man beside her with suspicion and doubt. Since when did bodyguards play with walkie-talkies? The tall, light brown haired man beside her was not intimidating, he did not make her want to run out of Harbor View Towers and never come back, and he certainly didn't inspire fear. It was her first trip to visit Elizabeth at her home, and, up to that point, it had been nothing like what she had been expecting.

"Why can't you just open the door and let her know that I'm here," she questioned the Irishman standing beside her. "What's with this big production? Is this standard procedure?"

"Sometimes Midget and I play with these," he motioned towards the toy he held in his hand, "just for fun, but today they're actually serving a real purpose. She's getting ready for some, big important date tonight, and the kid's sleeping, so this makes sure I don't go barging in and waking him up. I have a tendency to yell first and think later."

"I see."

"Are you there, Pint-sized Picasso," Johnny asked for the second time.

"I'm here, I'm here. What the hell do you want? I told you not to bother me," the MIA artist replied. "Jesus, Johnny, can't a girl get some personal space around here?"

"I'm not replying until you use my code name."

The petite brunette huffed, and Carrie could imagine her stomping her foot in impatience. "Fine! Leave me alone, Beefy Bully."

"Can't, Short-stuff. There's someone here to see you."

"Well, unless it's the freaking Dali Lama, I don't have time to see them." Sighing, she explained her frustrated mood over the walkie-talkie, "do you know how hard it is to plan an outfit for an evening out with Jason? I have no idea where we are going, and you won't give me any clues."

"But he threatened to put me on mail duty for a month if I gave you any hints," Johnny protested in an attempt to defend himself. "Do you have any idea how boring it is to sift through your womanly mail-order catalogs?"

"Pretty, pretty please," Carrie heard her friend beg. "I'll do your laundry for a month, and, this time, I won't purposely turn all your socks and underwear pink. All you have to do is tell me this: are we taking his bike, a car, or one of the SUV's?"

The guard contemplated his charge's deal, scrunching his face up in thought and nodding his head while he thought his way through his various options. "Alright, you win. You're taking the bike. Now, Carrie's here to see you. Can I let her in?"

"Carrie's here?"

"That's what I just said, isn't it?"

"Don't get lippy, Lurch," Elizabeth threatened playfully. "I know where you sleep at night, and don't forget that I'm dangerous with a paint brush. I could finish a mural of pink and purple unicorns on your bedroom wall in a single afternoon. As for Carrie, sure, show her in. Let her know that I'm going to get dressed really quickly, and then I'll be down." Just as Johnny was about to turn off his toy communicator, the former nanny spoke up again, stopping him. "Oh, and make sure she's quiet. I don't want Michael getting up too soon, because then he'll be cranky for my Grams tonight."

"Got it," the Irishman agreed. After putting the walkie-talkie into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, he faced Carrie, addressing her. "You can go ahead in. I'm sure you heard everything Midget had to say?"

"Yes, and thank you, Mr. O'Brien." As she let herself in, she smiled kindly towards the bodyguard and saw him return the gesture, but her fake grin soon faded as soon as she shut the door behind her and absorbed her surroundings. While tidy and neat, it was still obviously a home that was lived in. There were piles of folded baby clothes on the dining room table, mail on the desk beside the entrance, and scattered things on the coffee table that reflected the three people who lived in the penthouse – motorcycle magazines, sketch pads, a coffee mug, and two pacifiers. It was so utterly domestic, so absolutely unlike what she would have expected from a reputed mob boss that it made her feel sick to her stomach, but she couldn't let her friend notice; she couldn't allow Elizabeth to catch on to her discomfort.

Moving further into the room, she realized why it was so important that she be quiet. Asleep in a playpen in the center of the living room was the little boy her fellow college student was raising with her boyfriend – Michael. She would have recognized him anywhere, for he looked exactly like the pictures she had seen of him a month before. The one year old was apparently exhausted, because, even after she had come to stand at his side, he still did not stir, and, well, for her, that would just not do.

Reaching into the playpen, she lifted the toddler up in her arms, struggling to get a hold on the baby. After all, she had never held one before. By the time she felt comfortable with the child, he was starting to wake and, noticing that she was a stranger, he immediately began to squirm in her arms.

"Quit that," she told him harshly. Despite using a soft whisper, the strictness was quite evident in her tone. "You cannot let her know that you're awake yet. Stop moving."

Rubbing his eyes, Michael called out. "Bet."

"What did you say," Carrie questioned the child. "I didn't understand that. Can you say Mommy?" She smiled, attempting to make the gesture as warm and affectionate as she possibly could, but the one year old simply tilted his head and stared at her, his eyes wide with fear and unease. "Mommy," she urged him again.

"Bet!"

That time his voice was louder, and she knew Elizabeth was sure to hear it.

"No, not Bet," she chastised the toddler. "Mommy, Mommy. You need to say Mommy." Suddenly, he started to cry and no amount of pleading for him to be quiet or jiggling him in her arms could silence the little boy. "Shut up, kid," she raised her voice to be heard over Michael's wailing. "You're not supposed to act like this. This wasn't how I imagined this going."

The one year old simply cried louder, his face contorting into an angry red, and, in between his shrieks, he would continually call out for, "Bet!"

"Hey, what's wrong?" Elizabeth's soothingly voice asked as she raced down the stairs and moved towards the little boy who needed her caring presence and comforting arms. "What did you do to him," Carrie heard her inquire. "He was sleeping soundly ten minutes ago when I checked on him." By the time the youthful painter reached her side, Michael was holding his arms out towards his former nanny. "Here," Elizabeth insisted, gesturing for her friend to hand her the one year old. "I can take him now."

"No."

By the bewildered shaking of the brunette's head and her wide, annoyed blue eyes, Carrie knew she had hit a nerve. "Excuse me, but who the hell do you think you are? He doesn't know you, he obviously doesn't feel comfortable with you, and he wants me. Give Michael to me," the art student ordered. "Give me my son."

She was so engrossed in their confrontation that Carrie never heard the door behind her open. "Don't you mean my son?"

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes in confusion just as her jaw became set and a challenging tilt lifted her head up so she could glower at her adversary. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Carly," Jason bellowed, slamming the door behind him as he stepped into the home, effectively blocking a curious Johnny's view into the tempest brewing inside Penthouse IV, "give Michael to his mother; give him to Elizabeth."

Carly – a.k.a. Carrie – simply smirked. Although she did what she was told, handing over her biological child the woman she had been duping for months, she still had gotten what she wanted by coming to visit. She had seen her son, she had assessed his life with the two people who had been raising him for the first year of his life, and she had announced her presence back in town and back in her little boy's life. Ruining Jason and Elizabeth's New Years Eve was just a bonus, a very sweet, very serendipitous bonus. Score one for Hurricane Carly.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

He was trying to remain calm, not only for Elizabeth because he could tell that she was distressed and nervous but also because he knew he couldn't confront and say the things to Carly that he really wanted to. Whenever she felt backed into a corner and attacked, she fought back even harder, spinning out of control. He couldn't do that to Elizabeth; she didn't deserve to witness the other woman at her worst. He couldn't do that to Michael, because, in the middle of everything falling apart around them, he was still the innocent and needed protected. And he couldn't do it to himself, because, frankly, he had no patience for his former friend's theatrics. However, he was angry; beyond angry, he was furious, and, despite being skilled at keeping his emotions in check, a feeling of Zen was eluding him.

So, he paced, back and forth, up and down, footstep after footstep across the rug and in front of the fireplace, breathing hard and clenching and unclenching his hands. Johnny had come in moments before to take Michael upstairs and keep him occupied. They, he and Elizabeth who was sitting anxiously on the second step, her posture making it evident that she wanted to flee the room and join their little boy upstairs where everything confronting them was out of sight and out of mind, wanted the one year old nowhere near the destruction if the human bomb in the room decided to blow. Said explosive person was confidently perched in the arm chair directly adjacent him from, a smug, self-satisfied smirk curling her lips and making him want to punch something.

Exhaling sharply out his nose, Jason came to rest, squaring his body and folding his arms across his chest as he glared at Carly. "Where have you been?"

His question only seemed to make her smile larger. "Oh, you know," she hedged, tucking her legs underneath her and relaxing into the chair, "here and there. I'm surprised you asked though. I wasn't sure if you still cared." When he narrowed his gaze towards her but still did not reply, she continued. "I went home to Florida. Well, not home exactly…I just watched from afar, checking up on the people I used to know there but not actually spending time with them."

"Practice stalking," Elizabeth spoke up for the first time, "for the real event that would come later." Although the older of the two women in the room ignored her, he couldn't stop himself from looking in his girlfriend's direction, and what he saw amused him. She wasn't fearful or even timid; she was, for lack of a better description, pissed off.

Carly pressed on though undaunted. "After Florida, I spent some time in the Caribbean, recuperating and getting myself back in shape after having Michael."

"Yes, because we must lose that baby weight immediately, even if we abandon our child to do so."

That time his son's biological mother did spare the young artist a look, a very perturbed, slightly hostile look, but she was met with eyes so cold and so full of hatred that even she decided not to say anything back in retaliation. "From there, I went out to L.A. and started working part time as a day player, acting in small, bit roles that required me to speak no dialogue."

Elizabeth taunted her once again. "Roles performed flat on your back rarely require dialogue."

"Do you want to shut her up, Jason, or should I?"

"She has a right to say whatever she wants. After everything that you've done to her, I think you're getting off pretty easily. If it was anyone else," he warned, the rest of his statement going unfinished. No one in the room needed him to complete it; they all understood the unspoken connotations. "As for where you've been, I don't really care. What I want to know is where have you been as far as Michael is concerned. It's been over a year, Carly. You gave birth and left before your son was even named. No note, no phone call, you never once tried to contact me. Hell," he screamed, failing to control his temper, "for all you knew, that little boy upstairs could have been dead!"

Dropping her assertive manner, the former nursing student toyed with the ends of her dyed, mousy hair and avoided his gaze. "I wasn't ready to be a mom yet. I needed some more time."

"You had nine months," Elizabeth accused, standing up from her position on the stairs and coming to stand at his side. Her normally pale countenance was red with fury, her sapphire orbs were blazing with a ferocity the mob boss had never seen before, and her tiny fists were balled together so tightly, he was afraid she was going to hurt herself. With everything combined, she was a force to be reckoned with. "How much more time did you want?"

"Michael was premature," the older woman snapped, looking up from her lap and meeting his rivalry's face. "I'm surprised you don't already know that though, Little Miss Susie Homemaker! After all, as my son's _mother_," the word was said snidely as if Carly was questioning the former nanny's ability to take care of the toddler, "shouldn't you know everything about his medical history just in case something goes wrong?"

"Don't be a hypocrite," Jason heard his girlfriend return confidently, ignoring his one time friend's insulting remarks. "You have never taken Michael to a single doctor's appointment, you have no idea if he has any medical allergies, you don't know how to comfort him when he's not feeling well, and you are not the one who could hear him cry and know exactly what was wrong. I did those things, and I know those things, not you. As for him being premature, so what? Instead of nine, you had what, eight months to get ready to be a mom, and that still wasn't enough time? Grow up, Carly! If you weren't ready to face the consequences of your actions, and I mean all of them, then you shouldn't have spread your legs in the first place."

"Don't start with me, little girl! You do not want to mess with me."

"Why not," his girlfriend asked impertinently, shrugging her shoulders. "You've been messing with me for months, and, in my book, what goes around comes around."

"Look," the Mafioso spoke up before Carly could retort. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed before continuing. "This is getting us nowhere. For months, you've been stalking Elizabeth, pretending to be her friend and for what?"

With a stubborn tilt to her chin, the older woman answered, "I needed information."

That he had not been expecting. "What," Jason questioned, snapping his gaze up to lock with hers. Repeating himself and expanding upon his inquiry, he pressed, "what do you mean you needed information? What kind of information?"

"There I was, getting myself ready to come back home, and what do I find out? I find out that you've gone and gotten involved with my son's nanny, that you're dating her and that she's living with you, that people around town are speculating about how soon the two of you will make it permanent, that they're calling her Michael's Mom. I couldn't just show up without any information. I needed to know what she was like, how serious the two of you were, and how much work I'd have to do to get rid of her. So, I did what I had to do and got the information I needed."

"And now what?"

"That's simple," she answered, brightening considerably. "You get rid of Princess Purity, and I'll move in. You, me, and Michael, we'll be a family, Jase."

"That's not going to happen, Carly."

"Why not," the former nursing student demanded to know, yelling in aggravation. "I already know that the two of you aren't engaged and that you're not looking to get married, so how serious can this really be? Just, quit being such a nice guy and tell the brat to hit the road. She's not needed anymore. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of both you and Michael."

"Since when have I ever been concerned about traditions," Jason snapped, glowering at the older woman. "Marriage means absolutely nothing to me. If someday Elizabeth wants to get married, then I'd be willing to do that for her, but the government's approval and a little piece of paper are not going to change the way I feel about her. I'm in love with her, and she's going nowhere, so you might as well forget this plan of yours, because it's not happening." Holding up his hands to placate her, he stopped Carly from saying anything until he was finished. "Now, you're Michael's biological mother, so I'd never keep you from him. We'll work something out, some kind of visitation schedule where you can come here and spend time with him."

"Have you forgotten the small fact that you're not really Michael's father," Carly asked, infuriated. "The only reason you've raised him for this long is because I allowed you to. Don't test me, Jason," she warned, standing up and backing her way towards the door, "because you don't want to see the consequences."

Before he could reply or try to work something out with her, she was gone, the door slamming behind her serving as the exclamation point to her statement.

In all the nights that they had shared a bed together, they had never been this quiet. Sometimes they would talk, discussing their days or making plans as family or as a couple, sometimes Jason would read while she worked on her assignments, offering random comments whenever she was bored with her school work, and a lot of the time they would end up making love, but, for the first time in their relationship, they were doing nothing in bed. Michael was asleep, the lights were off, and the draperies were drawn, leaving them in the peace and solitude they both needed so much. Elizabeth was demurely lounging on her side of the bed, running her artistic fingers through Jason's damp hair as he lay sprawled across the mattress, his head resting intimately on her abdomen, turned so that his closed eyes, strong nose, and regal jaw were brushing against the underside of her breasts. Although, during a different time, their positions could have been considered erotic, for them, on that night, it was simply comforting. They needed to feel that close to each other.

"I'm sorry."

Even to her own ears, Elizabeth's voice sounded faint, almost muted, so it was no wonder that her boyfriend's lids fluttered open so their intense gazes could meet. "What?"

Swallowing thickly, she repeated herself. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

The confusion marring his handsome face made her smile wistfully. It was obvious that he felt there was no need for apology, and it made her love him even more than she thought was possible, but, despite being reassured that he harbored no resentment towards her actions, she felt the need to continue.

"For bringing this…Carly into our lives. Let's face it, I was blind. I walked into her trap like a lamb being led to slaughter, and now not only is my life up in the air but yours and Michael's are as well. I hate that my…desperation for a girlfriend did this to us."

"Elizabeth, first of all, you weren't blind. Francis, Johnny, and I, we were blind." She felt her face wrinkling in bewilderment as his statement, but, before she could ask for him to clarify, Jason was already explaining. "We looked into her background; we checked her out, and the three of us found nothing suspicious, which, frankly, makes me slightly concerned about the general status of our security system. She picked an alias that was clean, that was practically irreproachable. Not only that, but she disguised herself. Both Francis and Johnny had met Carly before, and they didn't recognize her. Her hair color is different, she's wearing contact lenses, her complexion is much darker than it used to be, and even the shape of her face has changed since the last time they saw her, because she only started coming around the guards when she was pregnant and heavier. There was no way you could have known your quiet, inconspicuous friend Carrie from school was really Carly Benson, Michael's biological mother. Like always, when that woman plans something, she doesn't hold anything back."

The way he said his final statement made the college student pause to ponder. It wasn't the actual words the mob boss spoke that captured her attention but the tone in which they were replied. "What do you mean by that? The way you said the words plans…"

"Carly never does anything the simple way," Jason responded, repositioning his body so that he was resting on his side and looking directly at her while still keeping his head on her stomach. "Whenever she wants something, she comes up with some complicated, elaborate plan that never fails to backfire on her and hurt other people. When I told you about her, I told you more about my relationship with her, but she has a complicated past." Stopping for a moment, he took a breath, joined his right hand with her left, and twined their fingers together before continuing. "Bobbie gave Carly up for adoption when she was a teenager, and, when Carly came to town, her plan was to break up her mother's marriage by seducing her mother's husband. It worked, but it nearly destroyed Tony, that's Bobbie's ex, and it also helped lead Carly to her whole pregnancy mess. She had cheated on Tony with A.J., my brother, got pregnant, but, since she wanted to keep Tony, she tried to pass the baby off as his, To throw A.J. off her scent, she drugged him and made him think that he relapsed and went back to the bottle. But, A.J. figured things out eventually, her relationship with Tony failed, and then they both wanted nothing to do with her but everything to do with her baby for their own selfish reasons. Then she came up with her next plan."

"For you to act as Michael's father," Elizabeth finished for him. After watching Jason's head nod in agreement, she asked, "so what do you think she's up to now? Do you think there's more to her plan than simply stalking me and trying to get back into your and Michael's life?"

"Oh, I know there is. It might seem pretty messed up to you and me, but, knowing Carly, her charade as Carrie is just the beginning. The problem is I just don't know what else she's up to."

They were both silent for a moment while they contemplated the woman who could very easily tear their world apart. Finally, after several minutes of quiet, she spoke up. "So, what do you want to do about this?"

"We can't let Carly scare us into not living our lives."

"Agreed."

"So, we should just keep doing things we normally would," Jason suggested. "We'll take care of Michael, you'll go to school, I'll work, and, whenever we can, we'll go out for bike rides."

The former nanny leaned down to kiss him gently. "That sounds really good to me."

"And, in the meantime," the businessman added after they had separated, "I'll try talking to her again. There was a time when I could talk some sense into her, so it's worth a try."

"What do you think of me talking to Bobbie?" He quirked his brow at her in silent inquiry. "Well, Carly mentioned that she had been receiving news about us while she was away, and, though their relationship obviously has been quite rocky in the past, it would make sense that Bobbie would still want some contact with her daughter. Maybe she was the one Carly was talking to while she was in California, and, if she was, she might be able to give us some insight into what Carly's plan is."

"It makes sense," Jason agreed, "and anything is worth trying."

"Okay, good. I'll go and see her tomorrow then."

"Oh no," the mob boss playfully chastised her. In one quick motion, he somehow switched their positions, flipping them over so that he was lying on his back and she was plastered on top of him. "Tomorrow, the three of us are spending the day together. It's a holiday, the warehouse is closed, and I have to make it up to you for cancelling our date. The day after tomorrow we can talk to them. I'll invite Carly here, and you can take Michael with you and go and visit Bobbie."

"You know, you really don't have to make it up to me," Elizabeth assured him. "However," she teased with her first genuine smile since he had realized Carrie was Carly hours earlier, "I'm not one to turn down a whole day with my two favorite boys."

"There you go again with this boy nonsense. What am I going to have to do to…"

The rest of his words were swallowed by her mouth as she kissed him. It wasn't midnight yet, but there was nothing in the rule books which said they couldn't practice their first kiss of the New Year, because, after all, practice did make perfect, and Jason and Elizabeth were both perfectionists, especially when it came to something they really cared about, and, luckily for them, they both fit under that category for each other.

If there was one thing that Max Giambetti couldn't handle, it was a sad woman, and it was even worse when said sad woman was one petite, talented, and sweet Elizabeth Webber. He knew the other guards made fun of him, calling him a teddy bear behind his back, but he couldn't help it, and he didn't care. He had been raised to respect the fair sex, to treat them well, and, if that meant he was there to listen to them and to lend a supportive shoulder when they needed to talk to a friend or cry their hearts out, then that was exactly what he was going to do. However, sometimes a man needed a more unique approach; sometimes he needed to resort to the ultimate form of comfort: catty gossip that induced laughter.

They had just pulled into the parking garage at Harbor View Towers when he decided to employ this approach. The car was parked, Elizabeth and Michael were safely boarded onto the elevator, and he knew she needed a distraction after getting absolutely no information from Bobbie. The redhead had been more tight lipped than the Warren Commission, and he was only privy to how very unforthcoming they were because he knew someone who knew someone who knew someone else who was related to someone who worked for another guy who was allegedly involved in the assassination, but the mobster's role in the crime had never been disclosed to the public. Hence, the tight lipped reference. Anyway, in Max's opinion, Miss Barbara Jean Spencer would have done the old blowhards on the commission proud that afternoon based upon her uncommunicative attitude.

Clearing his throat, the burly guard shoved aside his hostile thoughts about everyone else's favorite nurse and focused on his personal favorite artist who just so happened to be standing beside him in the elevator. "You know, I once saw Carly before she got herself…you know," he shuffled in place and tugged on his suddenly very tight tie. For some reason, he hated to talk about anything that had to do with sex in front of Elizabeth. To him, it just seemed unseemly. She might be dating his boss, but, in his mind, she was still an innocent. "And, I saw the security footage from when she showed up at the penthouse the other day, and, I've got to tell you, no matter what she said, she still hasn't gotten back to her…pre-baby weight."

The former nanny perked up immediately, smiling warmly in his direction. "Really?"

"Oh yeah," Max embellished, feeling proud that he had put that ridiculous grin on the brunette's face. "She's all stretched out and flabby. Ma always said that a woman's body never fully recuperates after she gives birth, and now I know what she means."

Turning her big, deep sapphire eyes in his direction, Elizabeth begged. "Tell me more, please; give me details."

"Well, her thighs and hips, they're a lot bigger than they used to be."

"And," the youthful college student prompted him.

"Her stomach isn't flat anymore. She tries to suck it in sometimes," he explained with a full on demonstration with his own stomach, "but, when she thinks no one is looking, she relaxes, and you can see that she has a little belly."

"Like a cut, sexy, rounded, feminine belly or an 'I've let myself go and now I have a spare tire' belly?"

Max tilted his head to the side and pondered her question for a moment before replying. "I'd say it's closer to the second one, because I sure as hell didn't find it attractive."

She was so excited about the news that she was practically bouncing on the balls of her tiny feet. "I know this is terrible of me to react this way, that it makes me vain and shallow, but I don't care. After everything that she's done to us, especially Michael, I could do and say things that are a lot worse." The bell sounded alerting them to the fact that they were on the penthouse level, and, as the doors to the elevator opened, she kept talking. "I just, I can't help it. I hate her so…"

"Ssh!," Johnny immediately silenced her. Before either he or Elizabeth could question the security expert at the door, Max heard other voices, angry, confrontational voices from inside Penthouse IV, and, through the crack in the door he could see four people facing off around the dining room table: Jason, Carly, A.J., and some balding, pompous suit who was attempting to hand his boss a piece of paper. The youngest of the guards would bet his entire collection of Marilyn Monroe memorabilia that the suit was a lawyer.

"Mr. Morgan this subpoena states that you must turn over the child into the care of his biological parents immediately."

Max glanced between the open doorway, the enraged doorman beside him, and his suddenly crying charge who was, at that current moment, holding the child in question against her chest as he contently slept. This, what was going down around him, was not good, and he had no idea how to help the situation. And he hated feeling helpless.

"I already told you," Jason ground out through gritted teeth, "Michael is not here right now."

"Then you must find him and bring him to the Quartermaine residence immediately," the high priced attorney ordered. "If you do not, you'll be held in contempt of court and arrested."

"It's not as if you're not used to it already," A.J. quipped, laughing at his own joke, but one sharp, warning glance from his lawyer shut him up immediately.

"Do you understand these stipulations, Mr. Morgan?"

Max watched as his boss's stormy eyes left those of the lawyer standing before him and traveled across the room until they landed upon the slightly ajar doorway. Although, to the other people in the penthouse, it appeared as if he was considering the attorney's question, in reality, he was watching Elizabeth. Their gazes met, and the young, tall guard realized that the couple had silently communicated with each other. Before he could react, the diminutive woman at his side slipped away and re-boarded the elevator that would take her back to the parking garage and away from Harbor View Towers, away from the events and people conspiring to take the little boy away that she and Jason loved so much. With a slight, almost imperceptible nod of his head, Max watched as his boss gave the order for him to allow Elizabeth to leave the building without any protection. At the same time though, the suit took the gesture as Jason's way of agreeing to the terms of the subpoena.

"Very good then," the balding man announced, snapping his briefcase shut before turning towards the door to leave and waving impatiently for his clients to follow. "Mr. Quartermaine, Miss Benson, and I will see you and the child soon."

The unwanted guests to Harbor View Towers filed into the hallway where they ignored the two guards and waited for the elevator. Several moments passed but, finally, they were gone. Before Max could say anything to Johnny in question or to Jason in reassurance, he saw his boss slip through the doorway which led to the stairs and, eventually, Elizabeth. He left without a word, and, just like before, Max felt helpless once again. Never before had he ever wanted to hit something more. However, he kept his cool and simply slouched despondently against the wall. The same couldn't be said for Johnny, and the Irish guard had the sprained left wrist to prove it. Like always, even the most high tech and up-to-date preventive measures couldn't stop a storm on the warpath. Hurricane Carly had blown through their lives, destroying it, and, in that moment, Max knew that nothing would ever be the same again. It wasn't a very good feeling to have.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

By the time Jason reached the cottage – _their _cottage the two of them had found months before that luckily still stood empty, he could tell that Elizabeth was barely holding it together. He knew that she was expecting him, because the doorway had been unlocked so that he wouldn't even have to pull out his lock picks, but, with one glance in her direction, he could also tell that she had no clue that he was already there. She paced in front of the fireplace, refusing to cry, and holding Michael to her chest as tightly as she could. Her hands were shaking, her lips were trembling and starting to turn blue, and there was an overall sense of desperation that clung to her every action. Seeing her like that only made Jason hate A.J. and Carly that much more.

Deciding he needed to get her inside the car where it was warm as soon as possible, he pushed the front door open and quietly entered so as not to startle her. She tensed momentarily but as the sound of his motorcycle boots tapping on the hardwood floors filled the bungalow, she relaxed, stopped pacing, and faced the fireplace, her back turned to him. "How soon can we leave?"

Jason had not been expecting her to speak first, and, even if she did, that was the last thing he would have predicted her to say or ask. "From here," he inquired, reaching out to rest one large, reassuring hand against her coatless shoulder. "Whenever you're ready. We'll go together, and I'll send one of the men to pick up the car you drove."

"No," Elizabeth argued, rotating around so that she could gaze up and meet his eyes, her own soft, wet, pleading orbs of sapphire blue. "How soon can we leave the country?"

"You want to take Michael and run?"

"What other option do we have," the former nanny pressed, finally releasing her tears, but, as soon as they fell onto her pale, ice cold cheeks, she quickly dashed them away almost as if she was ashamed of her emotions. For a brief moment before she continued talking, she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head forcefully, berating herself and getting her feelings under control. "You have a private island, and no one knows its location. We could just leave from here, go immediately to the airport, board your jet, and be gone and safe within hours."

He sighed and lifted his left hand up to scrub it wearily over his face. "It's not that simple."

"Why not? School doesn't matter to me, not compared to this, not compared to our family, Michael isn't old enough to have made friends or become attached to this town, and I can't imagine you being upset over leaving any personal possessions or family members behind, and, if it's really important, I'm sure the guards could bring down our things later once we're settled in."

"But that's just it, Elizabeth," he pointed out, helping her sit down with their little boy still in her arms before joining her on the hard, cold floor. "Once we leave, once we make this decision to run away and never come back, no one will ever be able to come to the island to see us. It would be too dangerous and a risk I wouldn't take, because the Quartermaines would have the authorities watching everyone we care about like a hawk, hoping they would slip up and lead them to us…to Michael."

"So we'd never see the guards again," she realized, blinking rapidly to stave off another fresh wave of tears, "not even Max or Francis or Johnny?"

"Nobody," the mob boss reiterated. "You also wouldn't get to say goodbye to anyone either, especially not your Grandmother, because she would be the first person to cave under the Quartermaines' pressure. She loves you, but she's not loyal to me or to Michael, and I don't blame her for that. As any person would who loves you, she would do whatever she could to get you back in her life."

"Even if it meant destroying me in the process," she whispered, dropping her head down in despondency.

"There's another side to running away that we haven't discussed yet," Jason mentioned. When she didn't look up to meet his gaze, he brushed his calloused fingers down her cheek until he came to her chin and delicately lifted it. "In my business, there's no getting out; there's no retiring. Not only would we be running from the law, but we'd also be running from all my associates." When she gasped, he realized that he was scaring her, but, if it was one thing they always were with each other, it was honest, and he wasn't going to stop now when she needed to hear the truth the most. "Plus, no one who worked for me would be safe either. My enemies would attack them for information and try to get them to turn on us. Some might, but those who didn't would end up tortured and then eventually killed, and they wouldn't stop there." Taking a deep breath before he continued, he paused momentarily to gather his thoughts. "I want you to know that in everything I've ever done, and a lot of it has been terrible, Elizabeth, even unforgivable, I've never gone after women, children, or innocents, but not everyone in organized crime behaves that way. For some of them, their motto is 'why go against a professional when someone's friend or family member doesn't know how to fight back and will cave that much more quickly.' What I'm saying is," he simplified his explanation, "some men will go after your grandmother, and they probably wouldn't stop there."

"They'd go after my whole family, even if I haven't seen my parents or my siblings in years," the art student comprehended. "I'm sorry, Jason, but I can't do that to them."

"Hey, hey," he reassured her, scooting around so that he was at her side and could pull her against him in a tight, soothing embrace, "it's alright. I knew that you wouldn't be able to, and that's just one of the reasons why I love you. But, as you can see, we can't run away, but," he waited for his girlfriend to absorb the fact that they did have a second option, "you and Michael could leave. If it's what you want, I'd rather Michael be with you than with A.J. and Carly, and, by me staying here, I can make sure that you're both safe."

"No," she immediately refuted his idea, "I won't go without you, and, as for Michael, first and foremost, he's your son. If he should be with anyone, he should be with you."

"He's our son."

For the first time since he walked into the cottage, the brunette beauty smiled. "So, now what?"

"Now," he responded, shrugging his shoulders in acceptance, "I guess we fight. We find the best lawyer we possibly can, and we try to win custody of Michael the legal way. I hate fighting over him and putting him in the middle of an adult argument, but…"

"It's our only option," Elizabeth finished his statement. "And what about the court order that says we have to turn Michael over to the Quartermaines as soon as possible?"

"I don't know if I can do that," he confessed. Instantly, he felt his face contort into a rigid, detached mask as he prepared to face even the idea of his enemy, but his distant and emotionless behavior didn't scare or even startle the woman beside him. "I don't care if I get dragged down to lockup…"

"But I do," she interrupted, "and, if nothing else, you not complying with the court order and getting yourself arrested is only going to hurt our chances in court even more." He went to argue, but she held her free hand up to stop him. "However, I think I have an idea." Using his shoulder to stand up, Elizabeth kept her tight hold on Michael as she held a hand out to help him up. By the time they were both vertical and he could, once again, look into her eyes, the mob boss saw a combined sparkle of mischief and defiance and knew he would do whatever she suggested. "Let's go," she directed, holding out her hand for him to take, and, never doubting her, he grasped her fingers tightly and let her lead him out the door.

There were moments in a man's life when things suddenly become clearer, when the questions why and how much suddenly become superfluous, and something is simply because it exists. Because Jason had never experienced one of those moments before, he, prior to that afternoon, had not even known there was such a thing, but, as the feeling of utter and sheer awareness washed over him, he knew he would never forget that day, because, as he watched Elizabeth say goodnight to Michael, as she talked to his grandmother, and as she through simple glances and caresses comforted him, he realized there was nothing besides death that would ever make him let her go. She was the most essential part of his life.

Back at the cottage when they had gotten into the car and she had told him where to go, he had been surprised, but, trusting her, he never questioned his directions. The desperate, despondent woman he had found a half an hour before had been replaced with one exuding fake cheer and excitement, and, as he listened to her talk to Michael, explaining to him what was happening, he realized her false bravado was simply to reassure the little boy they both loved.

When they had gotten to the mansion and she, without asking him the way or looking to him to guide them, snuck them into the oppressive and ostentatious manor, he had been pleasantly surprised by her craftiness. However, he should have known that she would be able to do anything she set her mind to, for he had witnessed her tenacity and intelligence too many times in the past not to know what she was capable of. Watching her though as she sweet talked cook, dodged the other Quartermaines, and bonded with Reginald within two minutes of meeting him by simply complimenting Lila's flower arrangements made Jason that much more proud of her.

Once they were in his Grandmother's room, he had to bite back a chuckle – _a chuckle_ – upon hearing her plan. With the matriarch's help and Reginald's assistance, the former nanny devised the idea that Lila would take care of Michael without telling the other Quartermaines, especially A.J. or Edward, that the one year old was even there. Yes, she had conceded, they would find out eventually, but, until they did, at least she and Jason would know that he was safe and being looked after properly. She never asked the elderly woman to lie or to purposely deceive her family; all she wanted was her help in buying them some time to see if they could have the court order reversed. Lila had agreed almost immediately, sharing her own concerns about Carly's abilities as a mother and A.J.'s reasons for wanting his son. The true head of the Quartermaine family was not on speaking terms with her husband or her grandson at that particular moment, because it was of her opinion that Michael should stay where he was, where he was happy and already well cared for, so she would do anything to protect the little boy all three of them loved so much and to help Jason and Elizabeth.

And then finally after they had escaped the mansion without detection and had made it back to the car, the mob boss watched as his girlfriend fell apart in the passenger seat beside him. No bullet wound or knife stabbing had hurt him more than watching as the woman he loved curled in upon herself and sobbed for the child who was, second by second, slipping further and further way from them. He would hold her that night, protecting her as he watched her sleep, never once getting any rest himself, but he knew that nothing would console her or take away their pain, but, if he had to, he would die trying.

"Mr. Morgan, Miss Webber, please, sit down," their attorney, Alexis Davis instructed them as they walked into her office the next morning.

"Please," his girlfriend asked of the older woman, "it's Jason and Elizabeth."

"Of course. Now, if you don't mind, why don't we get down to business?" The mob boss nodded his consent. Watching, he saw their lawyer sit back in her leather chair, take off her thin, rather aristocratic looking glasses, and fold her hands in her lap before speaking. "I wanted to meet with the both of you before we proceeded any further. From our phone conversation earlier this morning, I know that, while neither of you are the child in question's biological parents, you are the only ones he has ever known. His birth mother abandoned him, and his birth father did not know of their relationship until just recently. The first thing I need to ask you is this: who made the decision to keep A.J. Quartermaine away from his son?"

"Carly didn't want A.J. raising Michael, so she asked me to step in and take care of him," Jason answered.

"Once she had left town, why didn't you go forward with the truth," Alexis inquired.

"It wasn't my place to make that decision," the blonde Mafioso responded. "Besides following Carly's wishes, I also knew what would happen to Michael is he was raised by the Quartermaines. He would become a bargaining chip, and A.J. would use him as a means to an end – getting into the old man's good graces and acquiring control of E.L.Q..

"Not to mention the fact that Junior is not the most stable person in the world to be a raising a child," the attorney quipped, earning a questioning, surprised glance from her clients. "I'm familiar with the family," she shared, "and, let's face it, A.J. is a spoiled drunk who has no idea what it's like to put anyone's needs ahead of his own." To clarify, she continued, averting her eyes and blushing, "I…know Ned."

"Ned, as in Ned Ashton," Elizabeth spoke up for the second time. "Isn't he A.J.'s cousin? Wouldn't this case be a conflict of interests for you?"

"Ned hates Junior, and he believes that Jason should maintain custody of Michael," Alexis assured them. "There is absolutely nothing conflicting about this case for me. Now, next I need dates. When did you first start working as Michael's nanny," the legally minded woman asked her clients, "and when did you and Jason start…seeing each other…personally?"

"Jason hired me in January of last year, we started dating that spring, and I resigned from my position in the fall because I did not feel comfortable accepting money for a job I would do willingly for free."

"So then you've been an integral part of the child's life since he was about a month old?"

"She's probably been the most important person in his life," Jason corrected the attorney. "Because of my work…"

"Yes, something else we'll have to discuss at a later date," Alexis interrupted him, fixing him with a pointed gaze.

Undaunted, he just continued, "Elizabeth was with Michael a lot more than I was during the day. She has been his primary care giver since the day I hired her."

"Has there been anyone else who has played a significant role in your son's life?"

"Yes," the young artist answered, "Michael and I have three main guards, Johnny O'Brien, Francis Donovan, and Max Giambetti. Whenever we went somewhere, at least one of these men were with us, if Jason and I couldn't be there with Michael or we went out, one of these men would baby-sit him, and sometimes they would just spend time with us because they wanted to. They might not be blood relatives, but they are the closest thing that Michael has to uncles, and he loves all three of them."

"I'm going to have to interview these men then and have one of my paralegals look into their backgrounds to see if they are potential character witnesses or not," the older woman explained. "Is there anyone else, preferably someone who does not work in the _coffee business,_ who has spent time with Michael and could perhaps help us?"

"My Grandmother," Elizabeth suggested, "Audrey Hardy. She's a nurse at General Hospital."

"And a very respected member of this community," Alexis filled in. "Please, make my day and tell me that she was well aware of the fact that Jason was not Michael's biological father and decided that it was best to leave matters as they were because she felt the one year old was better off not being with A.J.."

"She knew," the former nanny admitted, "but I'm not sure how she felt or feels for that matter about A.J. and his abilities as a father."

"Well, the sheer fact alone that she kept the secret gives me hope," their lawyer confided, "so, with your permission, I'd like to interview her and see if she would be willing to testify on your behalf."

"Yes, do whatever you have to do," his girlfriend permitted.

"So, what's our first step," Jason rejoined the conversation, needing to know what he could do to help.

"My first step," Alexis stressed the word my, "is to petition the court in an attempt to reverse the order giving sole, temporary custody of Michael to Carly and A.J. While I'm at the courthouse, I'm also going to get copies of their attorney's paperwork to see just what we're up against. In said paperwork, they should have provided the judge with a detailed list of their reasons as to why your son would be better off in their custody. Once we know what their offensive tactics are, we can form our defense and devise our own assault upon their case. In the meantime, all I want the two of you to do is stay out of trouble. I do not need to turn on my television tonight and see your police mug," she turned to Jason and glared at him pointedly, "being flashed all over the news because you were arrested…again. I don't care what you have to do, Elizabeth," she instructed the younger woman, "blackmail him, plead with him, hell, tie him to the damn bed for all I care. Hell, it might be fun. But, whatever you do, do not let him get himself into trouble."

"I can do that," the petite brunette assured their lawyer. "Is there anything else we could do?"

"Well, if you could somehow manage to change Michael's DNA and make him biologically Jason's son, that would be a big help," the legal eagle teased, laughing at her own joke. However, neither Jason nor Elizabeth found her comment funny, so she quickly sobered her mood. "Or, if you're so inclined, you could run off and get married tonight. The court would be more willing to grant custody to a legally wedded couple who are fully committed to each other than a pair of overgrown children who slept together one night, made a baby, and now have teamed up to take said child away from the only two parents he's ever known, but that's a big decision for you to make. If anyone knows how scary the idea of a piece of paper can be, I do." Standing up, she moved towards the office door and opened it to signal that their meeting was over. "I'll be in touch," she promised her two suddenly tense and nervous clients.

Without a word, Jason guided Elizabeth out of the room, helped her into the hallway, then the elevator, and then outside where their car was parked, and drove them home. With one passing, almost comedic comment from their attorney, their thoughts were both simultaneously distracted from Michael and their upcoming custody battle for their son. It was strange how the 'M' word could do that to two normally functioning and composed adults.

"Alright, that's it," Jason decreed, slamming the door as they walked into their home early that afternoon. He couldn't stand her silence and his own unknowing of how she felt any longer. "Do you want to get married?"

Without answering, Elizabeth returned, "why, do you?"

He glowered at her, stood rigid with his hands on his hips, and attempted to think of something quick and snappy to say back to her; he couldn't. So, settling with perhaps the most immature comment he could think of, the mob boss stated, "I asked you first."

"Well, it's a pretty loaded question," the artist replied, collapsing onto the couch and sighing. Patting the cushion next to her, she told him that she wanted him to join her on the sofa. Once he was there, she continued, "and my answer could be even more dangerous."

"Just tell me how you feel. I love you. Nothing is going to change that."

"Okay," she agreed hesitantly. He watched as she took a deep breath and visibly relaxed some. "Have I thought about what it would be like to marry you, have I imagined it, have I dreamt of it, of course I have," Elizabeth answered. "Any woman in a committed relationship would, but, honestly, it wasn't something that I saw us doing right now or even in the immediate future. I don't need a wedding ceremony to tell me how you feel for me or as reassurance that you're not going to leave me, because I believe the things you tell me and I trust your presence in my life. Basically, for me, it'll be the right time for us to say our vowels whenever you're ready to get married."

"So, let me get this straight," he quizzed her. "If I were to ask you right this minute to marry me and do it because I wanted to be with you forever and not because it would help us in our custody trial, you would say yes?" His girlfriend simply nodded her head yes and shared with him a secret, beautiful smile. Her response took his breath away. "Wow."

"It's pretty amazing it," she whispered, leaning her forehead against his and kissing him softly, "realizing that the person you love loves you just as much as you love them?" This time it was Jason's turn to nod, for he was simply incapable of speaking. Luckily for him, she pressed on. "And, if you think it's necessary for us to get married so that we can get Michael back, then I will marry you because that, too."

"No," the blonde Mafioso quickly denied her. "I refuse to marry you for the wrong reasons, and getting married to win a court case wouldn't be right for us. When I marry you someday, I want it to be because it's the right time for both of us, and I want everyone to know that I'm making you my wife because there is no other woman in the world for me."

"And I don't want to cheat us out of a real proposal or taint our relationship by using marriage as a legal maneuver," Elizabeth agreed with him. "Someday, when I marry you, it's going to be because I can't go another day without your ring on my finger. Whether we get married in six months, six years, or even sex decades from now, I don't care as long as we do it when we're both ready and for the right reasons."

"And we will," he promised her. Pausing momentarily to kiss her again, Jason let just their lips mingle and savored the taste of her. Pulling away, he stood up from the couch and lifted her into his arms. As his mouth rained kisses down her neck and teased the pulse point behind her ear, he stopped to murmur his pledge once again. "I will propose you, Elizabeth Webber, and you will agree to marry me."

The intelligent, exquisite, devoted woman in his arms had no arguments, only reassurances as she turned her face and rejoined their lips to make love to his mouth, a preview of what would come when they were finally in bed together, naked, vulnerable, and completely hypnotized by the others embrace.


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: Before this chapter, I just wanted to update you with the fact that there are only four chapters left of this story. Once it is finished, a new Liason story will begin. Thanks and enjoy!_

Charlynn

Chapter Twenty

Normally Jason was a very light sleeper, but after laying awake beside a silently crying Elizabeth all night, he was exhausted, so it took quite a commotion downstairs to rouse him. With the sounds of something crashing filtering its way up to his bedroom, he snapped upright, winced as his movements jostled his still sleeping girlfriend, and crept out of bed to investigate just what was going on his home. There was no reason for the guards to be inside, and he had asked them the night before to give he and Elizabeth a wide berth for the next few days as they adjusted to life without Michael, and, without the little boy in the house, that meant whoever it was crashing around in his home was not supposed to be there.

Springing into action, he slipped the boxers he had hastily discarded the night before back on, grabbed his loaded gun from his nightstand drawer, and slipped silently down the stairs fully prepared to defend himself, his home, and, most importantly, the woman he loved. As he made his way, he picked up on several different voices, all too far away to be recognized but loud enough that he could make out three males and one female. However, what surprised him was that the voices didn't sound hostile or even angry, and it was obvious that they were unconcerned about getting caught. Plus, things had been quite on the streets. There was no pressing enemy to watch out for, but perhaps he had gotten too comfortable, maybe he had been too focused on his family and had missed some vital and now life threatening sign of trouble. Although there had been the hang ups and harassing phone calls, after learning that Carly had teamed up with A.J., Jason had assumed that his biological half brother was the one behind the puerile terrorizing, but he had never followed up on the issue to make sure that his hunches were accurate, and now he was possibly paying for it. He had messed up, gotten sloppy, and left the door wide open to attack.

"Dear, do you always greet your company in your undergarments," a soft, melodious voiced asked him, the teasing note to the question ringing loud and true in the otherwise silent living room. "Why, I'd be afraid of catching cold."

"Grandmother," the mob bossed sighed a breath of relief at the sound of the elderly woman's soft laughter. Fidgeting in his underwear and no doubt blushing from embarrassment, he moved his gun from his right hand to his left and then back again, unsure of where to put the weapon. Finally, he decided upon folding his arms behind his back, effectively keeping the glock out of the matriarch's line of sight. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, three things at once, really," Lila answered. He couldn't help but notice how her cobalt blue eyes, eyes he had inherited from her, sparkled with both wisdom and mischief. "For one, Edward has been rather…"

"What's going on; what's wrong," the art student squeaked out, her usually deep tone replaced with a high one because of worry and nerves. Looking at his girlfriend, her chocolate curls insubordinate and threatening mutiny, her face still rosy and soft from the effects of sleep, her lithe form simply hidden underneath his t-shirt from the day before, and a high heeled boot in her hands being held as weapon, he couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh."

"Good morning, Elizabeth," his grandmother greeted her warmly, a smile upon her wrinkled and yet still beautiful face.

"I'm sorry," the younger woman hastily apologized. Nodding to the shoe, she explained, "I thought someone was breaking in down here, and, as for my attire," she turned a bright shade of crimson, waves of humiliation rolling off of her petite frame, "I just…I mean…"

"It's quite alright, Dear," Lila assured her. "I might be an old lady, but I know what a hunk my grandson is. However, while you have no reason to explain, I, on the other hand, do. As I was just telling Jason, I'm here for three reasons. Edward has been particularly insufferable recently, so, as to punish him, I spoke with Cook, and she agreed to help me sneak breakfast out of the house this morning and bring it here."

Curious, the blonde Mafioso asked, "so what are they having to eat at the mansion this morning?"

"Prune juice and Coco Puffs…without milk."

"Remind me to never get on your bad side," Elizabeth teased the Quartermaine matriarch.

"I'm sure that could never happen. As for the second reason I decided to surprise you this morning, after our visit earlier this week, I felt like spending more time with the two of you," Lila shared. "Plus," she added casually, as if her last reason was trivial and almost forgettable, "I thought you might like to see Michael."

Her mortification at being caught practically undressed by his grandmother disappeared as soon as their son's name left the elderly lady's lips, and Elizabeth asked excitedly, "he's here?"

"In the kitchen," the matriarch answered. "The handsome Mr. O'Brien has him, I believe. I saw him follow Mr. Donovan, quite the charming man, by the way, Jason Dear, when he went to show Cook and Reginald where things were."

Without further prompting, his girlfriend started running towards the hallway which led to the kitchen only to stop in her tracks when Johnny came out first, Michael in his arms, leading a small entourage behind him. "Jeez, Webber," the guard made fun of her, "I know you want me, but, please, try to contain yourself in front of the boss. From here, I can see the sunlight reflecting off the silver of his gun, and you know as well as I do that it's always loaded."

"Shut up, Lurch," she ordered him while, simultaneously, reaching out for the squirming one year old in the doorman's arms, "and give me my little boy." Before he was even in her arms, Michael was smiling, latching his tiny, chubby hands around her hair and holding her closely to him, all the while saying her name over and over again. "Hey, Sweetie," she greeted the one year old toddler. Looking across the expanse of the living room, Jason watched as she met his gaze and grinned widely. "Mommy and Daddy missed you so, so much."

Taking that as his cue, the mob boss quickly covered the distance between them, faked Johnny out to make him think he was going to hand him his gun and then, at the last minute, handed it over to Francis instead, and wrapped his suddenly free arms around the woman he loved, placing a gentle kiss on both her forehead and their son's.

"I thought you might like to give him his bath," Lila spoke up, interrupting their moment. "Even though Reginald and I have been taking good care of him and making sure the rest of the family keeps their distance, I know that my great-grandson would enjoy some alone time with his parents. Now, go on upstairs," she instructed the little family, "and, while you're gone, Cook and Reggie will finish breakfast, and those two dashing men will keep me company. I must admit," the matriarch winked wickedly at her grandson, "I've always wondered what it would be like to have two strapping young men take care of my every whim."

"It'll be our pleasure, Ma'am," Francis guaranteed her.

With that, Jason, Elizabeth, and Michael started to make their way upstairs only to be stopped by his grandmother's voice once again. "Oh, and Jason dear," she inquired softly, "have you heard anything yet from your lawyer?"

"We go to meet with her tomorrow. Why?"

"Well, I was just wondering if Miss Davis managed to get the custody order reversed. It doesn't matter though," she confided, "because, even if she hasn't, I'm suddenly feeling very restless, and when I get like that, I just cannot stay at home. Reggie, Michael, and I will just have to find some way to keep ourselves entertained. Do you have any suggestions?"

Words were not necessary as they shared a conspiratorial smile. No matter what, Lila would make sure that they were still a vital presence in their son's life.

"Oh, come in," Alexis Davis greeted them the next afternoon from behind her desk. With her hair in disarray, her shoes kicked aside, and her blazer off, she looked less obsessive compulsive and more compassionate than she had during their first meeting. "Sorry about this," she motioned towards the three-fourths empty bag of microwave popcorn in her lap. "I'm just finishing up my lunch break. You're early."

"We were slightly anxious," Elizabeth answered the attorney's silent question. "May I ask you something?" The older woman shrugged, disinterested. "Popcorn for lunch, really?"

"It's the only thing I know how to make," the slightly neurotic legal eagle shared. She paused for a moment, looked up at the ceiling as she thought, and then added, "sometimes," as a provision to her previous statement.

Jason had a feeling they were teetering on the brink of opening up a can of worms better left sealed tightly, so he distracted their lawyer by asking, "what have you been able to find out?"

"Well, I'll put it to you this way," Alexis responded. "I have bad news, I have worse news, and I have terrible news of Ivan proportion. Which do you want to hear first?"

"In which category do your efforts to reverse the court order granting custody to Carly and AJ fit?"

"It's the worse news," the attorney shared. "By the way, very middle ground of you, Elizabeth. I like that. It helps me balance everything out." Her hands, shaking slightly, even demonstrated.

Needing information and wondering if they had hired the most competent of lawyers, Jason demanded, "were you able to reverse it?"

"No, but this is where the bad news come in to play." Tossing her empty bag of popcorn away, the respected member of the judicial system slipped her glasses onto her nose, opened their file, and started skimming over the information while speaking. "I was, however, able to procure you full visitation rights."

"Well then," the former nanny questioned, confused, "why is this bad news?"

"Because you are to have constant supervision by either A.J., Carly, someone of the Quartermaine family, or Bobbie Spencer."

"That's fine," the mob boss approved. "We already have something worked out anyway."

"If it's illegal," Alexis warned him, "I don't want to know. Wait, who am I kidding," she laughed waving her hand distractedly in the air, "of course it's illegal. You're only the _alleged _kingpin of the largest crime syndicate on the east coast. Doing something legally for you must be as difficult as it is for me to leave a room without checking to make sure the lights are turned off at least three times."

"Lila Quartermaine, Michael's current primary caregiver while he's staying with his biological parents, Jason's grandmother, brings him over so we can see and spend time with him," Elizabeth corrected their attorney and, in the process, managed to silence the older woman's fast paced babbling.

"Well, good. That's quite wholesome, very…Walton-esque of you. And it will speak highly for your case when we point out to the judge that the head of the Quartermaine family believes Michael should be with the two of you. A good piece of news, we needed one."

"Speaking of which," his girlfriend prompted their legal counsel, "what exactly is this terrible news you have to give us."

"Justice Ward, who is acting as A.J. and Carly's attorney, is going to attempt to get Michael by coming after you."

"Me," Elizabeth questioned, surprised. "Why? What did I do?"

"According to your record, quite a bit."

"I checked her out before I hired her," Jason spoke up. "She's never been convicted of anything."

"As an adult," Alexis clarified. "However, as a minor, Miss Webber here was quite the wild child. Her juvenile records were sealed, but, if a lawyer can produce reason for them to be opened to a judge, they can be and, in this case, are admissible in court."

"But I was just a kid, a rebellious teenager," the brunette beside him argued. "Why do those things even matter?"

"They matter because you are a primary care giver and have no legal relationship with the child in question. Jason chooses to date you, so, in the same line, he chooses to allow you to be a part of his son's life. If Justice can prove that you are unfit to raise a child, then, by association, because Jason facilitated your connection to Michael, he, too, becomes unfit."

"A.J. is a drunk, and Carly abandoned her child for a year," Elizabeth pointed out.

"And you have been arrested four times and convicted on each account," the older woman stated, playing Devil's advocate, "once for underage drinking, once for attempting to purchase liquor as a minor, and twice for shoplifting. Do I think that you are a danger to your son, absolutely not," Alexis dismissed, rolling her eyes at the idea, "but, because you and Jason are challenging Michael's biological parents for custody, you need to be above reproach."

"Why aren't they going after me," the brooding Mafioso demanded to know. "I've been dragged down to the police station by Taggart more times than I can remember."

"But you've never been convicted of anything, so any good attorney, and, trust me, I am one, would be able to get that evidence tossed out as irrelevant.

"Alright, so Elizabeth got into some trouble when she was a teenager, big deal," Jason shrugged. "It doesn't change the fact that she's a good Mom, that she's a talented artist who works hard by going to school full time."

"But is she really through with her wild ways," their lawyer challenged. "She was hauled down to the precinct a few months ago and questioned in connection to a murder, and, although she was not arrested or convicted of anything, Justice is going to use her priors against her and question whether or not she was actually innocent in this unsolved case." Before either of them could interject, Alexis explained, "I'm just saying the same exact things we're going to hear from opposing counsel. Also, the two of you are engaged in a sexual relationship, but you are not married, something the courts, no matter how archaic the idea might be, frown upon. Justice will use this to question your morality and ability to raise Michael so that he becomes a functioning, responsible part of society."

Hearing his girlfriend sigh loudly beside him, Jason turned to see her, cheeks pale and lip quivering, lift her hands to cover her face. "I can't believe this is happening."

"It gets worse."

"What," he exploded, shoving his chair back as he started to pace the short length of the room. "How the fuck could this get any worse exactly?"

"Well, for starters," the legal eagle pointed out testily, "you could do that in court, put your temper on display for the judge and the media to see, and you'll be labeled an out of control, violent, danger to society and deemed unsafe as a parent."

"That's ridiculous," Elizabeth argued. "Jason would never hurt an innocent child."

"Says the former jailbird," Alexis snapped. Glaring at her clients, she requested, "would you both please quit interrupting me and," she narrowed her gaze towards him, "losing your cool. We need to get through this so that I can tell you what our next course of action is going to be. Now," she took a deep breath, composing herself, "like I was saying before, this gets worse. According to the records I obtained from the court, Justice has a witness who will testify to the fact that Elizabeth was still receiving money from you even after the two of you started dating and she began to fill the role of Michael's mother."

"But we already told you that," the art student reminded their attorney. "During our first meeting, you asked for dates, and I said that I resigned as Michael's nanny this past fall. Why is this so bad for our case?"

"Opposing counsel is claiming that, because you willingly acted as Michael's mother, Jason was, instead of paying you for childcare services, paying you for sex. Basically," Alexis clarified, "they're accusing you of prostitution." While he steeled his jaw in an effort to stem his anger, Jason could hear his girlfriend gasp in horror beside him. "What I want to know is, how the hell does Justice have dates of employment for you, because I know for a fact that the paperwork has not been filed yet for your taxes."

"Carly," Elizabeth answered, fisting her small hands together and heatedly pounding them against the arm of her chair. "She pretended to be my friend for months last fall, but, instead, she was using her connection to me to gather personal information."

"Well, we can use that against her, as I'm sure there are plenty of unbiased witnesses seeing as how even you," their counsel smirked at him, "don't have influence over every single PCU student. And, we'll find plenty of information to use against them as well, just as they have done to us," she continued. "I want to warn you though. This case is about to get ugly, but what I need to know is whether or not you're prepared for just how nasty it's going to get. If not, this is the time right now to change your mind and back out.

Squeezing his hand, the diminutive brunette beside him surprised everyone in the room by being the first to speak. "We're not giving up," she stated confidently. "If A.J. and Carly want to play dirty, I can give just as good as I get."

An exhausted, weary, and snow covered Jason Morgan stepped off the elevator at the top floor of Harbor View Towers, eager to forget the day, skip dinner, and crawl into bed with his girlfriend. Seeing Elizabeth, spending time with her, holding her in his arms, they were the only things he found himself looking forward to now that their son had been taken away from them. The days seemed longer and the nights lonelier, and he knew it was even worse for her, because, unlike him, she was used to spending almost all her waking moments with the toddler. After they had left Alexis' office that afternoon, he had been hesitant to go to the warehouse, but he had already pushed back work for longer than was advisable, so the mob boss had rushed his way through his tasks, gotten things settled and arranged so he could spend a few more days away from the office, and hurried back home to Elizabeth as quickly as he could.

"How is she," he asked Johnny as he rounded the corner of the hallway and approached his own door. The guard appeared sullen, and bored was too kind of a word to describe his level of sheer world-weariness.

"Don't ask me. Apparently Webber decided all on her own that it would be a good idea to play hide and seek, but, in this version of the game, I'm not allowed to seek her out. I haven't seen her since she walked through that door five and half hours ago."

"Have you heard anything? Was she moving around the penthouse at all?"

"The only thing I've been able to hear out here is my own sanity slipping away," the bodyguard griped. "If she's going to be this easy to watch, I want reassigned. Let the newbies stand up here and watch dust particles form."

"You're not going anywhere," Jason stated, his tone advising the other man against arguing. Without another word, he moved inside, shutting the door behind him quietly. After all, there was no reason to startle Elizabeth.

Tossing his jacket aside, he made his way up the stairs, taking them two at a time in his haste to see his girlfriend, but, when he peered into their bedroom, she wasn't there. Instead, the bed was made, the curtains were drawn, and the lights were off. The dark only served to deepen his fears. Normally, the bubbly brunette would bound down to see him or rush into his arms as soon as he stepped over the threshold of their home. Just as he always missed her, she returned the sentiment, and the nights were their time to spend together. Tonight though, she was nowhere to be seen, and Jason knew he had made enough noise as he climbed the risers to alert her to his presence. No, she knew he was there, but she couldn't or didn't have the strength to greet him.

Turning around, he moved back down the hallway until he came to the closed doorway that went into Michael's nursery. Twisting the knob, he pushed the wooden barrier open and peered inside only to find the woman he loved curled up on the floor clutching their son's favorite blanket to her chest and staring off into space. There were dried tear tracks smudging her porcelain cheeks, but the red rims of her indigo eyes told him she had no more tears to cry. Without saying a word, he dropped down beside her, lifted her in his arms, and cradled her against his chest.

"I want to feel nothing," Elizabeth confessed, sniffling softly as she buried her face against his shoulder. "Can you do that for me? Can you help me forgot and, just for a few minutes, not feel anything anymore?"

"Yeah," he choked out, squeezing his lids shut to block away his own overwhelming emotions. Standing up with her still protected in his embrace, he made his way back downstairs, talking to her softly as they went. "I can do that, honey; I can help you feel nothing."

He grabbed both of their jackets as he moved past his desk and kicked the door to let Johnny know he wanted it opened. "Go home for the night and send someone up to relieve you," he ordered, not caring that the guard obviously had several questions after seeing his boss and his charge both so upset. "We're going riding."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

If Elizabeth Webber had to choose one word to describe her current mindset, it would be distracted, and it wasn't the innocent scatterbrained, endearing absentminded kind either. It was the kind where she went to bed at night, forgetting to set her alarm, only to wake up late the next morning and not remember what day it was or where she was supposed to be. It was the kind where she could go all day and not feel the hunger pains raging in her hollow stomach, only to be forced to eat by a concerned Jason, a Jason who had previously had to be reminded to eat by her. It was the kind of distracted where everything else in her life fell to the wayside besides her relationship with her boyfriend and the child they had in common – her schoolwork, her art, her friendships with the guards, and her connection with her grandmother. Her grades were slipping to the point where she was about to be put on academic probation, and she hadn't painted in two months, the length of time Penthouse IV had been missing its youngest resident.

To make matters worse, she just wasn't preoccupied with their court case, its ramifications upon her relationship with the man she loved, and the fact that they were both missing their son despite the almost constant visits Lila helped arrange for them; she was also troubled by the fact that she was the main obstacle standing in Jason's way of getting his little boy back home where he belonged. It was through her faults, her past mistakes, and her lack of judgment that A.J., Carly, and their high priced and well connected lawyer were able to attack Jason's parenting skills, and, for the past eight weeks since their second meeting with Alexis, she had been wondering if it was selfish for her to stay; for the past fifty-six days, she had been wondering if it would be better to do the right thing, to back out of her relationship with Jason gracefully and allow him to reclaim custody of Michael, to put their well being ahead of her own. After all, if she truly loved them, wouldn't she want them happy no matter what, even if their happiness came at the expense of her own?

So, with the privacy she got from the muted lights and the fact that Francis was still not allowed to sit beside her in her course on the history of organized crime, part two and the peace and quiet of an almost silent classroom, the professor's voice the only one dulling her concentration, Elizabeth focused on the task at hand: compiling a list of reasons as to why she should stay with Jason and comparing it to a similar list citing the reasons why she shouldn't. If nothing else, the fact that she was putting pen to paper should make her professor believe she was paying attention and taking notes, but, even if he didn't, she really didn't care.

She worked diligently, somehow managing to remain detached. If the former nanny thought about her actions too much, she would start to laugh, and then her tears of mirth would turn to those of pain and heartache. Who would have guessed two years earlier, when she was twenty and an adult then as well, that she would be in a serious, committed relationship, raising a fifteen month old little boy with a reputed mob boss, and making a list of pros and cons to help her decide whether she should stay in their lives or leave them? At that point in her life, Lizzie Webber did not make lists, she didn't consider anyone's well being or happiness beyond her own, and she certainly wasn't organized enough too categorize and arrange her emotions onto a chart. It was amazing how much falling in love and caring for a child had made her grow up.

"I'm sure Joe Massino would find this list quite amusing, Miss Webber," her professor taunted. Before she could react and hide the paper from his wandering gaze, his hand snatched it. "Seeing as how we were discussing his arrest and these are your notes about the case, perhaps the rest of the class should be privy into your insights. What do you think?"

"I think that what is written in my notebook is personal, and it should remain that way."

"But you're not sitting at home; you're not at leisure," the instructor pointed out. "You're in my class, and, here, I decide what's personal and what isn't. If nothing else," the older man chuckled, "this should be amusing. Maybe Massino would enjoy reading this little list. You could send it to him and ask for his advice. After all, the two of you do have some things in common now, don't you? Perhaps he could be a sort of mentor for you."

Before the artist could reply, Francis had moved from his assigned position by the door and was standing at her side, a protective, supportive hand resting between her shoulder blades. His touch was light, but it was enough of a gesture to give her strength and make her stand up just a little bit straighter. "I think it would be in your best interest to return Miss Webber's notebook to her," the guard suggested.

"And I think you would be wise to not threaten me again in front of an entire room of witnesses, Mr. Donovan," the teacher returned, undaunted. "It would be a shame if Detective Taggart were to get a call about this incident, wouldn't it? Or what about Mr. Ward? I'm sure he would find it interesting that one of Miss Webber's personal friends and bodyguard was harassing one of the witnesses he plans to call in the custody case for Michael Quartermaine."

"It's Michael Morgan," she hissed back at the graying man, "and what the hell do you have to do with my son?"

"Biology, Miss Webber," he returned snidely in response to her contradicting him.

"You have obviously never been a father, because, if you had, you would know it takes more than DNA and matching blood samples to be a parent. Now," she narrowed her gaze and took a step forward, fists perched furiously on her petite hips, "why are you being called as a witness in my son's custody case?"

"Mr. Ward seems to think I have testimony regarding your character that could be beneficial to his clients and their petition for sole guardianship of the child in question."

Elizabeth shook her head both out of confusion and hurt that a man she knew nothing about and who did not know her would have such a desire to insult and injure her. "What have I ever done to you to make you hate me this much?"

"You make a mockery of this class," the lecturer stated, glaring at her. "You, mob moll to the east coast's largest crime boss, come in here with your goons and their guns and your amusement at the fact that you're taking a course where you very well could be a part of the lesson plans, and you disrespect not only me but your fellow students who are on a daily basis taken advantage of by the world your boyfriend represents. That, Miss, Webber, is why I dislike you."

"So instead of pulling me aside and discussing these issues with me in private, you decide that it's best to embarrass me in front of the entire class, and, just so you know, no one else has said anything to me about the fact that my presence here bothers them."

"Why would they or I, for that matter, want to speak to you in private," the professor laughed at the very idea. "If we said anything you didn't like, one quick nod of your head towards Mr. Donovan there and we'd be at the bottom of the harbor."

"You're a hypocrite," Francis snapped at the older man. "You claim to be too afraid to talk to Elizabeth one on one, but you'll humiliate her and, in the process, piss me off by reading her personal writings out loud to an entire classroom. You might have witnesses now, but they won't stop me from finding you and kicking your ass when you're all alone. And no," he continued before the grey haired doctor could interrupt, "I don't care if you go to Taggart with that information, because, if you think a few hours of cooling my heals in an interrogation room until my lawyer can get the charges dismissed is going to persuade me to not defend my friend, then you're even more obtuse than I gave you credit for, Sir." The last word had a noticeable edge and note of disdain to it.

Ignoring the security expert's thinly veiled warning, the instructor lowered his head and started reading off her list. "The title of Miss Webber's masterpiece here is 'Should I Stay or Should I Go?'." Looking up at his student, her alabaster cheeks aflame with mortification and barely contained rage, he cruelly teased, "I had no idea you were such a Clash fan." He allowed the class a chance to snicker before he continued. "The reasons to stay are as follows: love, oh how sweet," the teacher snickered before pressing on, "family, love again, Miss Webber," he mocked, "aren't we being redundant? Friendship, security, my first real home, and love for the third time. I had no idea you were so sentimental." Ruffling the paper, he cleared his throat before moving on to the second column. "And now for the reasons as to why she should leave: to ensure that Jason gets custody of…"

Before he could finish, the twenty-two year brunette seized the notebook from his hands, closed it, and calmly put it back in her messenger bag. "Fail me, report me to the Dean, hell, you can get me kicked out of PCU for all I care, but I'm done, so you can shove your cynical comments and your stupid, fucking class where the sun doesn't shine. I'll see you in court." With that, she turned around on her heel and marched out of the classroom, a snickering and proud Francis walking a few steps behind her. Just as they reached the door though, her cell phone rang.

Taking the slim, silver device out of her purse, she checked the caller id screen before immediately flipping it open. "Alexis, is something wrong? Is it Michael?"

Every person in the room was silent as they waited and listened to her side of the conversation, apparently curious as to why the famed legal mind was phoning her client in the middle of her class.

"Well, that's because Jason had a meeting this afternoon…with an important coffee client." There was another pause while the attorney spoke, only Elizabeth hearing what the counselor had to say. "Are you serious, joint custody until the trial? This is amazing, more than we had hoped for. Of course I'll go and pick him up right now. Thank you, Alexis, and I'll call you and let you know how the transfer went as soon as Michael, Francis, and I are back at the penthouse. Talk to you soon."

Once again distracted, albeit this time by good news, the former nanny and her personal bodyguard made their way out of the classroom, her confrontation with her now former professor and the list she been making long forgotten.

"Elizabeth, Dear," Lila greeted the younger woman as she stepped into the matriarch's suite of rooms on the second floor of the Quartermaine mansion, "Michael and I weren't expecting you this soon. Miss Davis said you were in class."

"I was," she revealed, blushing at the admission, "but…something happened. Let's just say that I won't be stepping foot in that professor's classroom ever again."

"Would you like to talk about it?" Motioning towards the empty chair across from her at the tea table, Jason's grandmother invited the college student to join her in her afternoon ritual. "After our lunch date last week, I've had a taste for hot chocolate, so Cook has been making it for me." With a playful twinkle in her magical blue eyes, Lila teased, "it seems as if your bad habit is rubbing off on me."

"Chocolate can never be bad."

The older woman laughed softly. "I suppose you're right." She waited for the artist to pour herself a cup of the sweet concoction before urging her, once again, to share her story about her bad afternoon. "If you do want to talk to someone about whatever happened today, Dear, I'd be honored to listen."

"It's not that big of a deal," Elizabeth dismissed with a casual shrug of her shoulders, but the pain in her eyes conveyed the truth.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that? Reggie's getting Michael ready to go right now, so it'll be a few minutes before you can take him home, and I do so enjoy our chats. If nothing else," the matriarch advised, "you'll be able to get it off your chest so that it won't affect the rest of your day with your son."

"I was taking this two part class," the brunette shared, "on the history of organized crime." Looking up from her mug of hot cocoa, she was surprised to see that Lila had not reacted to the admission at all. Encouraged by the older woman's acceptance, she plunged on. "The professor and I had never really gotten along, and today that became quite obvious…to the entire class. I wasn't paying attention, and he caught me, but, instead of speaking to me after class, he took my notebook, railed against me in front of everyone, and then proceeded to read my personal thoughts out loud so that everyone could hear them."

The head of the Quartermaine family tsked in annoyance. "That man, obviously, was never taught any manners. I'm sorry you had to go through that, Dear."

"Oh, it gets worse," the former nanny chuckled with little amusement. "Apparently, he's being called as a witness in the custody hearing. Carly and A.J.'s lawyer is using him as a character witness against me."

Lowering her voice to a whisper, Lila confessed, "I have always tried to find the good in everyone, but, no matter how hard I try, I cannot find one shred of decency in that woman. What my two grandsons saw in her, I'll never know."

"Oh, I do," the artist giggled, this time with genuine amusement, "but you're too much of a lady for me to say it in front of you."

The older woman winked, letting Elizabeth know that she understood what she meant, but, before either of them could say anything else, the door to the sitting room was opened and Reginald walked in with a content yet sad Michael in his arms. As soon as the little boy saw the woman he loved so much, his arms lifted and he reached out for her. The petite brunette was immediately across the room and pulling him into an embrace.

"It's good to see you again, Miss Webber," the butler greeted her.

"Reggie, please," she insisted, "how many times do I have to tell you? For you, it's Elizabeth." He nodded in acceptance but still didn't address her by her first name.

She went to kiss her son, but, as she was moving, the one year old's chubby hands touched her face, patting it out of familiarity. "Mama," he greeted her before smiling a wide grin to show off his new teeth.

Speechless, the twenty-two year old turned and faced the two other adults in the room, both of them looking pleased with themselves and smug. "What…how?"

"Michael and I both noticed how depressed you've been recently," the matriarch answered the silent questions she had found the younger woman's eyes. "We wanted to do this in an effort to cheer you up."

"Well, it worked." Finally kissing the toddler on the brow both in greeting and in thanks, Elizabeth, once again, focused her attention upon Lila. "Jason and I have him for the next three days, but I hope you'll still be coming to see us for lunch tomorrow as we planned."

"I would love to, but no more dawdling, Dear. My grandson must be anxious to see his little boy, and there's no reason for you to stay here just to keep an old lady like me entertained." Moving her chair slightly so that she was facing the butler, she asked, "will you help her out to her car, Reggie?"

"Of course," he agreed readily with a smile. "Come on," he motioned for the brunette to follow him after she had waved goodbye to the older woman. "I'll go ahead and get Michael's coat out of the closet when we get downstairs," he offered. "Trust me, you don't want to battle your way through that mess. Between Tracy and Carly, it's practically a burial ground for rabbits and minks."

"And does it smell like what I can only imagine a brothel must smell like when you first pull the door open?"

"How did you know," the butler asked, clearly amused.

Elizabeth shrugged. "My Mom liked expensive things, and we had a closet like that in our house when I was growing up."

The two shared a quiet laugh, but, just as they reached the bottom of the spiral staircase, Michael spoke up for the second time that afternoon. Pointing a tiny finger towards the partially hidden observer in the room, he said, "Babes," in an unfriendly tone.

"Who the hell told him to call me that?"

"I have no idea, Miss Benson," Reginald answered with a straight face. As soon as Carly's back was towards them, he whispered in the former nanny's ear, "I taught him that," a note of pride in his voice. "She hates it when people call her Carly Babes. Little Michael couldn't say Carly, but he sure picked up on Babes right away."

She giggled quietly while he went to fetch the toddler's coat. Together they put it on him and then, when he was ready to leave, Elizabeth bent down to pick him up. Without any warning, she stumbled slightly, a wave of dizziness passing through her.

"What's wrong there, Muffin," the now platinum blonde taunted. "You wouldn't be sick, would you, because I doubt the judge would look too favorably upon you taking care of my son when you're too dizzy to even stand up?"

"It's nothing," the younger woman dismissed. "I just haven't had lunch yet this afternoon, so my blood sugar's a little low."

"Oh, so you're saying that you're anorexic? That's not very healthy either and certainly not a good example for an impressionable child."

"Why don't you go steal something and take it to a pawn shop, Carly," Reginald sniped. Placing a guiding hand on Elizabeth's back, he helped her and Michael out of the house and towards the car where Francis and her driver were waiting.

Even after having to deal with her professor and Carly, she couldn't wipe the smile off her face. After all, their little boy was coming home. He'd be sleeping there that night, he'd wake up there the next morning, and she wouldn't have to make an appointment to see him. Even if the visit was only temporary, it was more than she and Jason had been allowed to have in two months, and that was something to celebrate.

"Tickets to a baseball game," she suggested, immediately going back to her double chocolate chunk ice cream as soon as she was finished talking.

"Nah," Jason argued, "because if we get him tickets to a game, he'll want us to go with him."

"Would that be so bad? They serve beer…in the bottle."

"I don't like crowds," he stated. "Besides, I really don't see you as a sports fan."

Elizabeth shrugged, grinning cheekily behind her ice cream cone. "I like the uniforms; they make the players' butts look nice."

He scowled at her. "Don't think that you're going to get away with a comment like that. Michael might be with us now, but he won't be later tonight."

"Oooh, I'm shaking in my boots," she taunted.

Ignoring her, the mob boss proposed, "why don't we just buy him another gun. He likes guns. They're like the his children."

"Putting aside the fact that what you just said has to be the most pathetic thing I've ever heard in my entire life, I don't want to get him a gun, because that's boring. It's something he'd buy for himself. I think we should get him a really nice watch."

"Yeah, so when he's beating someone up, it can get splattered with blood."

"Ugh, Jason, that's disgusting," the brunette complained, elbowing him in the side. "I'm trying to eat here, thank you very much. Besides," she pointed out, "he wouldn't wear it for work. It would be for good. And you know how flashy he can be, how he can get into his appearance."

Snorting, the Mafioso complained, "he's a regular peacock."

Elizabeth nodded his head, agreeing with him. "He does like to preen."

"But don't you think that a watch is a little much?"

"He's one your best friends," the former nanny contradicted him, "he's my partner in crime, and he's practically Michael's uncle. I think we can spring for a watch."

"Alright," he agreed, wrapping his free arm which was not carrying their sleeping son around her. "We'll get him a watch, but you're picking it out."

"Agreed."

They were walking through the park after having dinner together, just the three of them as a family. Although the guards were close behind, they were staying far enough back so that they were not intruding upon their private moments. Because it has been so mild out that evening, they had decided to forgo taking a car when they went out and were, at that very moment, making their way back to Harbor View Towers.

"You know, it's pretty fitting that his birthday is in March," she stated, interrupting the comfortable silence which had enveloped them for several moments. "Johnny O'Brien is the embodiment of an Irishman." Getting an idea, she turned around and started walking backwards as she continued to talk to her boyfriend. "Oh, do you know what we should do? We should break into his apartment on the day of his birthday and decorate it for him, go all out – green shamrocks, green lights, even exchange his regular beer for green beer."

He laughed, finding her excitement amusing. "You do realize that he'll kill you for touching his…"

Before his playful assertion could be finished, gunfire erupted onto the couple and their child. On instinct, Jason pushed Elizabeth down to the ground and shoved Michael into her arms, covering both of their bodies with their own. The deafening, glaring, nerve-racking sound of weapons firing lasted for less than thirty seconds, but, in that time, the mob boss had no idea which direction the assault was coming from. To him, it seemed as if they were surrounded, and that was never a good thing.

Just as quickly as the attack had started, it ended, and, by the time he was up and on his feet, first checking to make sure the two people he loved most in the world had not been hurt and then looking for clues, the guards had joined them, and all three men had puzzled expressions on their faces. They had been in the open, vulnerable, ripe for a violent strike, but, after the dust settled, no one was left with even a scratch.

Bending down, Jason picked up a bullet and immediately realized why. They were rubber; the violence had just been a warning.

"Boss," Max called out, gesturing for the blonde to join him on the other side of the clearing. "I think I found something."

Without word, the boyfriend and father took the note from his employee's hand, reading it out loud. "Next time, the bullets might be real. That wouldn't look too favorably upon your case in court, now would it, Baby Brother? I'd watch your back if I were you."

The stakes in the custody battle over Michael had just been raised. Again.

It was late by the time Jason made it to bed that night. After arriving safely back at the penthouse, he had set to work bulking up the organization's security system and bodyguard detail, making his home a virtual fortress. Worried, he entered the bedroom he shared with the woman he loved and immediately started stripping off his clothes. Although the lights were still on, her back was to him, so he was unsure if she was awake or not.

"Elizabeth?"

She responded, rolling over towards the sound of his voice, but she was sound asleep and obviously exhausted, so he wasn't going to wake her. Within moments, he was down to his boxer briefs, so he turned off the lights, climbed under the simple yet comfortable sheets, and pulled her into his arms, kissing her brow and allowing himself a moment to linger on her clean and unique scent of rose petals and snow, a scent he always associated with his girlfriend.

Taking a deep breath, Jason prepared himself for what he was about to do. It wasn't his first choice of action, but, in his opinion, it was necessary, so he would do it. He dialed the number despite it being programmed onto his cell phone, perhaps in an effort to delay the inevitable, and waited for the person on the other end to pick up. It rang twice.

"It's time. You know what you have to do."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

Instantly on the attack, A.J. snapped back, "we're here to pick up our son."

"Luckily, for the rest of the world, there is no such spawn, but, if you're referring to Jason and Elizabeth's son," the Irishman smirked, relaxing back to lean against the wall, "well then I'd have to inform you that he's busy right now and that you're early. Come back at the agreed upon time and then I'll let you inside."

The Quartermaine heir turned red and started to bluster, but, before he could spit out a come back, Carly, while rolling her eyes, stepped forward and took control of the situation. "Look, Jimmy…"

"It's Johnny."

"Whatever," she waved her hand in the air both to show her disinterest and to dismiss him. "Let me make this simple for you. I want to go shopping, and A.J.'s grandfather wants a family picture, so, before I get access to the credit cards, I have to do what they want and smile pretty for the camera…with Michael sitting in my lap and A.J. standing proudly behind us. If we wait until this evening when we're supposed to pick up Michael, I won't have time to shop until tomorrow, and that's not what I want. So, this is what you're going to do," she paused for effect, taking another step closer to the bodyguard, "you're going to open that door, announce us, and make sure we leave here with the kid."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I'm going to stand here, screaming and complaining, until someone hands me their damn credit card!"

"Fine," Johnny agreed almost instantly. Spending anymore time than necessary with the caustic blonde was definitely not something he planned to _ever_ do. Mumbling under his breath while he moved back to the door, he complained, "I really need a vacation," before knocking once and sticking his head into the penthouse. "Uh…boss," he waited until Jason turned around and was paying attention, "you've got company."

"Who is it?"

With a straight face, the security expert replied, "Little Red Riding Ho and the Big Bad Weasel."

Confused, the father screwed up his face and regarded his employee as if he had lost his mind. "O'Brien, are you alright? Do you need a few days off to…rest?"

"I'm sure he wouldn't argue with some time off," Elizabeth spoke up from behind Jason, "but he's not crazy." She started giggling which made Michael laugh and the somber expression on the guard's face turn into a crooked grin. "He meant that Carly and A.J. are here."

"Oh," the mob boss replied automatically before the corners of his mouth started to turn up. "Now that I think about it, that does kind of makes sense."

"There's hope for you yet," Johnny taunted before pushing the door open to its widest capacity and allowing the two people in question to enter the home.

Carly was the first to speak. "What the hell are you doing," she screeched, eyes wide with absolute horror at the sight before her.

"They're painting, genius," the bodyguard answered, saying the obvious and making fun of the blonde. "What the hell does it look like?"

"It looks like a mess," A.J. piped in.

"Brilliant deduction there, Sean Connery," the Irishman was on a roll, enjoying himself while mocking the two people currently filling the top slots on the Corinthos-Morgan enemy list.

Ignoring him, the Quartermaine heir looked down at his watch before remarking, "we're never going to make our appointment now."

"You can leave as soon as you want. Don't let us stop you," Jason gestured the door, insinuating that they should just show themselves out. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Johnny messing around on his cell phone. "O'Brien, what the hell are you doing?"

"Texting."

"Why?"

"Because, in about thirty seconds, there's going to be fight, and why should the other guys in the building this morning miss a free show? So, as my good deed for the month, I'm letting them know that they should get their fat," he paused, glancing up and meeting Michael's curious and interested expression as he observed the adults around him, a still wet paintbrush in his left hand, "butts up here. I'm still debating whether or not I should charge admission."

"I'm not going to get into a fight with A.J. in front of my son," the guard's employer told him, a note of weariness entering his voice as he rubbed the back of his neck in an attempt to relieve some tension.

"Nope, you're not," the brightly dressed doorman agreed, "but Webber doesn't have control on her temper, and, when she finds out that these two," he jerked his thumb towards Carly and A.J., "plan on taking the kid with them this morning instead of waiting until this evening as you agreed upon, you're going to have to hold her back from pulling out all the over-processed straw that's supposed to pass for hair on Miss Benson's head."

"Hey," the blonde fired back, annoyed with the bodyguard's comments, "I paid good money for this!"

Disinterested, Johnny rolled his eyes. "As I'm sure many men have in the past for your…_company_."

"This is getting us nowhere," A.J. interrupted the bickering. "We're getting our picture taken this morning…with Michael, so, if you would please clean him up, we'll be on our way."

Surprising everyone, Elizabeth took control of the situation, remaining calm and collected the entire time. "That's fine," she agreed with the short, brunette man, "we'll do as you ask." Lifting Michael up from his sitting position on the dining room table, she held the little boy in her arms while addressing the intruding couple. "However, in a compromise, both parties must give and take, so what are you willing to give us for our cooperation? I'd say that an extra day next week with Michael would be appropriate."

"Absolutely not!"

"Oh, shut up, A.J.," Carly snapped at her partner. "It's not as if you spend any time with the brat when he's in the mansion anyway. Your Grandmother and that stuck-up butler hide him away upstairs where no one else can get to him. Just do what she wants so we can get out here."

"I'll take that as a yes," the former nanny decided, making her way towards the stairs. "Let me go give Michael a quick bath and get him dressed. Now, if you can manage to not annoy me during the next ten minutes, I'll make sure you make it to your appointment on time."

It wasn't long after the college student and toddler disappeared upstairs that Carly was on the attack. "This is a very…_interesting _sight, Jason," he taunted her former friend, "domestic also. I didn't think you liked art."

"I like Elizabeth's art."

"Of course you do," she smiled. There was no humor or geniality in the gesture. "But look at this place. It's a mess; there's paint everywhere."

"It'll clean," the blonde Mafioso shrugged his shoulders, obviously not concerned about his material possessions, but, then again, he never was. "What's your point, Carly?"

"I just think that it's disrespectful of the Muffin to suggest you do something you don't enjoy in your own house while destroying it in the process."

"First of all," Jason returned, "when have you ever been concerned about respecting me or anyone else for that matter?" When she didn't reply, he narrowed his gaze and glared at her. "Secondly, this is Elizabeth's house just as much as it is mine, so she's free to do what she wants whenever and wherever she wants to. Another thing," he ticked off his third point on his long, calloused fingers, "if you ever call my girlfriend Muffin again, you'll wait in the hallway and not be invited inside when you come to pick Michael up, because, not only does Elizabeth not deserve your condescension, but our son does not need to hear his mother referred to like that. And, finally, for your information, not that it's any of your business, but this," he motioned towards the two easels and the wet, finger painted papers strewn across the large expanse of the dining room table, "was Max's idea, not Elizabeth's."

"And who's Max," Carly grimaced, "the family dog? Don't you see what she's doing to you, Jase? She's taming you, breaking your spirit!" His only response was to scratch his jaw, a movement designed to hide his silent laughter, and point behind her towards the still open doorway. "What," the blonde exclaimed in a huff, whirling around to see what her former friend was gesturing to. What she found was a not so happy, scowling, enraged hulk of a man in a very expensive designer suit that was tailored _to_ reveal his holster and semi-automatic handgun underneath the jacket. "Who the hell are you?"

"Max," the guard answered, cracking his knuckles in the process, "the family dog." She had the good mind to not say anything in return, but Johnny, who was watching the scene with avid interest, chuckled when he saw the tart blanch considerably. There were moments when he really hated his job, like when he had been the one forced to talk to Carly and A.J. earlier, but there were also times when he wouldn't trade his job for any other in the world, and watching his good friend and fellow employee face off with the peroxide barracuda was one of those times. "You see," the Italian bodyguard started to explain, "I was up here this morning having breakfast with Jason, Elizabeth, and Michael when…"

"What the hell do you mean you were having breakfast with them? I never get asked for breakfast!"

"Max doesn't drink my beer," Jason responded unapologetically.

"Hey, that was Webber's fault," Johnny attempted to defend himself. "She was trying to get me drunk so I would spill the beans on you!"

"Anyway," Max shouted to override the Irishman's complaints and redirecting the conversation back to him. "When we were done eating, Elizabeth mentioned that she, for the first time in months, had inspiration to paint, but she didn't want to go up to her studio when Michael was here, because she wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. So, I suggested that she bring her supplies downstairs, set up an easel for herself and for Jason, and allow Mikey to finger paint on the table. You know how it's beneficial to get kids interested in the arts early in life, so I thought this was a good way to both expand the little guys mind and let the three of them spend some quality time together." He paused for a moment to laugh. "Now, I'm not naïve; I knew that Webber wouldn't get much work done, because the boss would be constantly distracting her by painting her instead of his canvas, but, no matter what, they'd have fun, and, by the looks of things," he let his gaze wander around the main living area of the penthouse, "I was right. Oh, and by the way," the security expert added, puffing out his chest in self-importance, "it was also my idea to surround the table with pillows just in case Mikey got curious and wandered too close to the edge."

"It was a great idea, Max," Elizabeth praised him as she made her way back downstairs with a very clean and very smartly dressed one year old in her arms, "but he was having too much fun to even think about going exploring." She had changed as well, throwing on a clean smock to cover the various hues splattered on her sweatshirt and jeans. Being ever the gracious host, she offered, "you can use the guest bathroom upstairs, Carly, if you want to so you can change here for your picture instead of at the studio."

Looking down at her open fur coat that revealed the short, red mini-dress she was wearing, the blonde quirked her brow in bewilderment before responding, "but I'm already dressed."

"Oh," the artist squeaked out, barely concealing her amusement.

"Well, I, for one, think it's a great choice," Francis spoke up for the first time from his hidden position behind Max in the doorway. "Don't you, O'Brien?"

"I do," the Irishman agreed readily, nodding his head while talking. "In fact, I saw someone getting their picture taken in that exact same dress last week."

Confused, Jason furrowed his brow at his employee. "What were you doing getting your picture taken?"

"I wasn't," the doorman stated. "I was down at the precinct for the free coffee and donuts and saw this _lady of the night_ being escorted in and booked."

The three guards started laughing loudly as soon as Carly grasped what was being said about her. Before she could say anything back though, A.J. stepped in, pushed her towards the doorway, insinuating that he wanted her to leave, and reached out towards Elizabeth so she could hand him Michael. "Let's go," he impatiently ordered when she was hesitant to give him the toddler. "You got what you wanted; you'll have him for an extra day next week, now, hand him over, because we really have to go if we're going to make out appointment on time."

As if realizing what was happening, the one year old started crying, clinging desperately to Elizabeth's neck. Holding back her own tears, she tried to sooth the little boy. "It'll be alright, Michael," she whispered, "Daddy and I will see you soon. Be good for Grandma Lila." Just as she went to kiss Michael goodbye, A.J. pulled the tyke out of her arms, making the child scream even louder, and, without another word, left the penthouse.

Nobody moved. The guards who were still shifting uncomfortably by the doors waited to see what would happen next, Jason, his hands fisted and body trembling in rage, stood rooted in his position by the table, and Elizabeth, with silent tears slipping down her face watched the entrance as if the little boy she loved so much would reappear if she waited long enough. But, instead, the only thing that happened was that all five of them could hear Michael's screams as he boarded the elevator, and, even after the doors closed on the lift, the memory of his sobs still haunted them, and all the joviality from a moment before when Johnny, Max, and Francis were taunted Carly was gone. After all, what they had just witnessed, the little boy they all cared deeply for fall apart, could very well happen on a weekly basis every time he had to leave his home, his Mom, and his Dad to go and stay with his biological parents if joint custody was awarded after the trial. It was something no one wanted for the toddler.

Breaking them out of the reflective spell they were under, Elizabeth whispered, "I'm going to be sick," before running up the stairs, Jason close trailing after her.

"Paint fumes," Francis decided, sniffing the air in the process as he left the penthouse and went back to his post.

"Nah," Max argued, "Webber's emotions were just getting to her. She's used to the smell of paint." He, too, made his way towards the elevator which would carry him back to the security room he was manning that morning.

Johnny, for the first time in a long time, left his suspicions unvoiced.

"That's it," Jason announced after his girlfriend got sick for the third time that morning. At that point, she had dry heaves. "You are not going to school today."

Tilting her head, she started to argue with him. "I don't even feel sick." His only reply was to quirk one sandy brow. "What, I don't," she exclaimed wide eyed. "I don't have a fever, my body's not sore, I don't have a headache; I'm fine. So what if I'm a little queasy…"

"You're queasy," he repeated. Surprising her, he picked her up and went to position her on his shoulder. "And that's why I'm putting you in bed right now."

"Would you quit it," Elizabeth begged, laughing at her boyfriend's antics. Although he set her back on the ground, he kept his hands wrapped around her waist so she couldn't escape him. "Fine," the former nanny agreed, "I won't go to school, but, if I'm going to stay home in bed, you have to as well."

It was obvious to her that the mob boss liked that idea. However, he still warned, "you're not going to get much rest if I'm with you."

"Who said I was tired?"

"Elizabeth," he cautioned, lowering his voice in an effort to playfully chastise her.

"Just…go get undressed," she ordered him, pushing him towards their bedroom. "I'm going to brush my teeth, and then I'll join you."

Obliging, he moved out of the bathroom but left the door open so he could keep an eye on her. Elizabeth wasn't going to fight him on that gesture. After all, she enjoyed being close to him. As he changed, she did as she said she would, brushing her teeth, washing her mouth out, and, like she did every morning, she took her birth control pill, popping out the little tablet designated for Tuesday and swallowing it without water, before wiping the paint off her arms, neck, and face and taking off her clothes. Clad in just her black boyshorts, she slipped into bed and patted the space beside her for Jason to join her. He did so without further prompting.

"So, now that you have me here," she teased, "what are you going to do with me?"

"Watch you sleep."

"What," she shrieked, pushing as strongly as she could against his arm but not even managing to budge him. "We're going to spend all day in bed together and not do anything but sleep?"

"You're sick." Apparently, the blonde Mafioso was not in a talking mood. It was a good thing that his lack of interest in conversation worked towards her plan.

Shaking her head out of exasperation, Elizabeth repositioned her body so that she was on her side and facing him before lifting her head towards his and allowing her lips to brush his softly, waiting for Jason to take her bait and resume control. Often, they flirtatiously fought over who would dictate the way they made love, but, that morning, she just wanted to watch him savoring her body. It never failed to make her feel beautiful, but, contrary to her expectations, he held back and did not deepen the embrace. Instead, he separated their mouths, tenderly kissed her nose, and then moved them so that he was spooned around her.

"Do I still have bad breath from throwing up?" It was the only logical explanation she could think of for why her boyfriend did not want to have sex. He _always_ wanted to have sex and never turned down such a blatant offer.

"No," Jason chuckled, letting his hands which were caressing her bare skin underneath the sheet they were covered with reassure her and support his words. "I just… Is there something you need to tell me?"

"Um," she searched her mind for what he might be referring to but came up empty. "I don't think so. Is there something you think that I need to tell you?"

"Well, Francis was saying something about that fight you had with your professor a couple of days ago."

"I told you about that," the college student pointed out. "Is it still bothering you, because, I've got to tell you, I haven't even thought about it since that afternoon."

Without answering her question, the mob boss just kept explaining the reason for his inquiry. "He mentioned something that you didn't though; he told me about the list you were working on, the one the professor read out loud to the class."

She sighed. "I see."

"That's all you're going to say?"

"I don't know what else to say, Jason." Shifting in his arms, she turned around to meet his gaze. "It's not what I want, but, if it's what you need to win custody of Michael, then I'll do it for you, for him."

For a moment, he was speechless. Instead of responding with words, he bent down and kissed her lips delicately. "Thank you," he finally murmured when they pulled apart. "Not that I want you do consider leaving me for another second, but thank you anyway for loving me enough to offer."

"Are you sure," the former nanny pressed, "because, let's be honest here; I'm a liability to your case."

"Elizabeth," her boyfriend immediately contradicted her, "if anything, you're an asset. I know it doesn't look that way now because of everything that Carly and A.J. plan to use against you in court, but, with you at my side, I can offer Michael a real family with a Mom and a Dad who love each other. You've been with him since he was a month old, you know him better than anyone else, and he loves you. Custody battle aside, I would never be able to look at my son ten years from now and tell him that I was too afraid to fight with you by my side so we broke up. He would resent me for pushing away the only mother he's ever known, and what kind of example would I be setting for him when it came to honor, respect, and loyalty?"

The brunette chewed her lip, her striking blue eyes wide with hope. "Okay," she agreed, "but I'm going to give you one last chance. If you don't agree to my walking away now, I'll never bring it up again, because I don't think I'll ever be this selfless a second time. It kind of sucks."

"Well, in that case," Jason teased her, making her gasp when he roughly yet playfully pulled her form into his, making them crash together, "please be selfish more often."

Her giggles were swallowed by his insistent kisses.

"Not that I really want to interrupt this moment," a strange voice startled the couple from the open doorway, making Elizabeth turn a bright shade of red while, at the same time, burrow even further into her boyfriend, "but what the hell happened to my dining room?"

"Sonny," Jason sighed on the opposite side of the kitchen as he watched his best friend, mentor, and former boss make the three of them lunch, "when I called you and said it was time for you to come home, I didn't expect you this quickly."

"It sounded important," the Cuban replied nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. "Elizabeth, could you pass me the oregano, please?" The brunette who was sitting on a barstool at the island counter and helping the older man complied with his request, wrinkling her cute button of a nose and paling at the scent of the herb. The reaction didn't go unnoticed by the former don. "Plus, I've got to tell you," he revealed, flashing his dimples at the couple, "paradise 24/7/365 days a year gets a little boring. I was ready for a little excitement, had wanted to meet Elizabeth here for quite some time now, and, what can I say, I'm always up for sticking it to the Quartermaines."

The only blonde in the room rolled his eyes and took another sip of his beer. "And there's the real reason you got back here so quickly."

Sonny smiled unapologetically before turning back to his assistant chef, one he was allowing to do very little cooking. "I hear you're an artist studying at PCU," he asked the former nanny. "I'd love to see your work."

"Sure," she agreed readily. Standing up from her chair, she was surprised when there were two men at her side within seconds eager to help her and insisting that she sit back down. "What," she questioned them. "I was just going to go and get some pieces."

"Jason can go," Sonny instructed, motioning for the younger man to do as he suggested. There were no arguments, and, as soon as the mob boss left the room, he continued. "Now, tell me how this custody case is really going. My best friend is not one to exaggerate, so I take it you're both pretty much desperate at this point?"

"They're attacking Jason through me," she revealed, tears instantly gathering in her wide, expressive, sapphire eyes. "I gave him an out, I told him that if he wanted me to I'd leave so that the trial would be easier for him to win, but he wouldn't let me…not that I'm complaining, because I really didn't want to walk away."

"Of course you didn't," the Cuban commiserated with her before a bitter note entered his voice. "Only cowards willingly walk away, Elizabeth." She could tell that there was an underlying meaning to his words, but, before she could ask him about it, the older man pressed on. "I was a coward," he shared while stirring the sauce for their eggplant parmesan. Before he had arrived at Harbor View Towers, he had made his driver stop by the grocery store knowing his best friend and his best friend's girlfriend would not have their kitchen properly stocked. "I'm sure you've heard of the model Brenda Barrett."

"Uh, yeah," the petite brunette laughed, smiling quizzically at him. "No offense, Sonny, but duh."

He chuckled at her forthright answer. "We were engaged," he explained. "I was in love with her, and she was in love with me, but, on the night of our wedding, I sent Jason to tell her that I wasn't coming. I ran away," he continued, his dark, soulful eyes looking off at a scene Elizabeth knew was from the past. "I said it was to protect her, and, maybe in a way it was, but the real reason I left her standing there at the alter was because I was protecting myself. I was too afraid of something happening to her because of me and the lifestyle I had chosen for myself that I decided to break her heart instead of risking a bullet piercing it. Was it the right decision, I don't know," he shrugged, finally coming back and meeting her gaze, "but, for a while, it broke me. That's why I had to go away and Jason had to step in and run the territory for me. I went into this dark place and couldn't find my way out."

"Not that I don't appreciate your honesty and willingness to confide in me," the college student prefaced her question, "but why are you telling me all of this?"

"I'm telling you this to prove to you that you're stronger than you think, that you're stronger than I was," Sonny answered. "While I ran, you stayed, and, if you're strong enough to give Jason the choice as to whether or not he wanted you to remain by his side and fight with him, then you're strong enough to make it through anything the Quartermaines or life throws at you. The two of you will make it through this custody case," he assured her. "I don't know what the outcome will be, only the judge can say that…unless I buy him off," he added with a devilish twinkle to his obsidian eyes, "but, no matter what, you and Jason will be fine, because you'll have each other."

Overwhelmed by his kind words, it took her several seconds to respond. Finally, she whispered, "thank you," before reaching up and dashing her tears away. "I have no idea why I'm so emotional," she laughed at herself. "Those must have been some pretty potent onions you bought."

"Or something like that," the former don teased, watching her movements carefully as the young woman across from him started to rearrange his cooking ingredients, organize them, and clean up the little mess he had made.

"I brought down some of my favorites," Jason announced as he reentered the room, his arms laden down with finished canvases, interrupting their conversation.

"You can see and understand the paintings," Sonny questioned, surprised.

"Elizabeth explains them to me. I see them through her eyes."

"Now, if she could only do that with the accounting books for me," the older man joked as he added more seasoning to his sauce, "then I'd, without a doubt, be able to say that she's the perfect woman."

"Actually," the blonde Mafioso laughed at his best friend's comment, "she's rather distracting when you're trying to work on the numbers."

"Imagine that," Sonny replied, dimples flashing while he winked in Elizabeth's direction. "I would never have guessed. However, I don't think she'd have the same affect on me as she does you," he pointed out to the younger man.

"That's a good thing," Jason playfully warned. "Let's keep it that way."

"Ugh, stop," the artist spoke up, reaching a delicate hand up to cover her mouth. "Please," she pleaded, "do no use any more garlic. It's making me feel queasy again."

"That's it," the Cuban announced, wiping his hands on a dish rag. "I'm calling the hospital, and I'm getting you a doctor's appointment."

"What," Elizabeth squeaked. The declaration made her feel flustered. "That's really not necessary. I'm fine."

"You're not," he argued. "No one ever complains about my cooking unless they're sick."

"But you'll never get me in on such short notice."

"It's a Thursday afternoon. How busy could they be? Besides," Sonny disclosed, "I have some pull over at GH, especially since it was my money that built their entire AIDS wing. Now, go get ready," he instructed the young brunette. "Francis is your guard, so he'll be up here in a few minutes to take you to your appointment, and, while you're gone, I'll finish up lunch and catch up with Jason. By the time you get back, we'll all eat together, the guards, too, and I'm sure, by then, you'll know exactly why you're sick and be on your way to feeing better than ever."

As Elizabeth did as she was told, going upstairs to change, she could have sworn there was an underlying connotation to mentor's words, but what exactly the older man was up to, she had no idea. It was those damn dimples. When he flashed them, he made her feel as if he was up to some kind of mischief and as if he knew something she didn't. It was too bad that she liked him though, because, otherwise, his smug and pretentious behavior could really get on her nerves. Apparently, she was sucker for cute men in the mafia, because, for some reason, she couldn't stay mad at any of the men in the Corinthos-Morgan organization. Luckily, the curse seemed to work both ways, because they all doted on her in return. If she really was sick, _which she wasn't_, she'd have about a dozen strapping, handsome men waiting on her every whim and desire. Life could be worse.


	23. Chapter 23

_A/N: Only one chapter left after this one. Enjoy!_

_Charlynn_

Chapter Twenty-Three

Frustrated, bored, and temper piqued, Elizabeth Webber had had enough, and, with Francis standing guard outside her closed curtain, she knew that, no matter what, she had a captivated audience. If he left her alone or ignored her, she could have him fired, and, as she huffed and puffed inside cubicle three, it was evident to anyone within a ten foot radius that she was volatile…at best, so she would be willing to do just about anything, including getting one of her best friends canned.

Fisting her hands, she hit the paper lined exam table she was sitting on before yelling, "I hate hospitals!"

"Pipe down, Pipsqueak," her bodyguard advised her, "or I'll ask the nice young lady who's currently sexing me up with her eyes to give you a tranquilizer."

"Jason would beat you senseless if you did that."

"He'd have to find me first," the older man pointed out, chuckling softly at her obvious annoyance when she threw her purse in the general direction of where he was standing, "and he doesn't know where my naughty nurse lives."

"You can't hide forever, Francis," she warned, a note of mischief in her voice, "especially not from a _coffee importer_."

While the most senior guard laughed at her comment, he didn't reply back, but that didn't mean that she was done talking.

"Stupid hospitals," she grumbled under her breath, "and stupid doctors making me wait this long. They always do this," she mused, crossing her legs and tucking the paper thin gown around her thighs so nothing inappropriate was showing. Ticking her foot up and down rapidly, she continued. "They tell you that they have to run some tests and disappear for a week. Even if you know that absolutely nothing is wrong with you, the wait makes you worry, and, by the time they come back with the results that reinforce what you already knew, you're a mess of nerves, your nails are gone, and you have suddenly developed another odd quirk like chewing your hair or speaking backwards.

"I've never liked hospitals. I think it's the smell," the brunette realized out loud. "Or the lights, maybe. Whatever it is, they make me feel like a caged lab rat, and, once I escape…if I manage to, I always smell like I went swimming inside of a bleach container. Granted, you could smell like worse things…like someone who desperately needs to take a dip in a bottle of Clorox, but I don't want to think about that, because I'll be sick again."

"I thought you weren't sick," the security expert asked from outside her curtain, taunting her.

"Shut the hell up, Frannie! Who asked you anyway?" The mistreated bodyguard, though amused, did as she bid and quit harassing her. "And I've never liked doctors either. However, that hatred is well founded seeing as though the only people I knew until the age of five were doctors themselves, people aspiring to be physicians when they were older, or poor suckers like me who were related to the Succubuses in scrubs. They made me paranoid, and, since I was always in trouble, doctors meant punishment which little Lizzie did not like."

"Do you always talk about yourself in the third person, or is that something you only do when you're knocking on death's door?"

"Eat Adidas, Donovan," she snapped, throwing her tennis shoe at him. The sneaker fell to the floor after hitting the curtain never once even getting close to hitting its target.

He snickered. "You do know what that can stand for, don't you?"

"Get your mind out of the Gutter, or I'll tell Sonny that you were trying to corrupt me. He seems like the overly-protective, fatherly type." Francis didn't reply, but she could see him shrug his shoulders dismissively by the movement of his shadow. "And stupid Sonny, too," the former nanny added upon further thought. "It's his damn fault that I'm here at he hospital anyway, the stupid mother hen! He's back in town for two hours, I just met him, and he's already ordering me around and making me go to the hospital because I threw up…three times. Overreact much? And those damn, stupid dimples," she seethed, finding herself on a roll. "Do you know what I'd like to do with those? I'd like to take my chisel…"

"Why the hell do you have a chisel?"

"I'm an artist, Frannie. Artists have chisels."

"But you don't sculpt," the security expert pointed out.

She grinned cheekily. "But I might someday, and, even if I never do, they do have…alternative uses."

"Remind me to sleep with one eye always open."

"Ha," she challenged him, "I will." Silence filled the space between them for only a few seconds before she was off on another tangent. "But you know what, Donovan? I guess it doesn't matter that Sonny made me come to the hospital. Sure, I hate it, but we already covered that, and, even if he didn't, Jason would have just withheld sex until I gave in and went and had myself examined, and I hate when he does that. It's such an underhanded tactic." The college student sighed, expelling a loud breath. "I never should have taught it to him."

Making her jump up in surprise and gasp, the curtain was flung back and the doctor reappeared. "Obviously," the general practitioner remarked, "he doesn't withhold sex that often." Before Elizabeth could gather her wits and respond, the older woman continued. "You're not sick, Miss Webber."

"I told all those bozos that," the brunette muttered under her breath, glaring in Francis' general direction.

"You're pregnant."

"Holy shit," the bodyguard swore, ignoring his fear of seeing more of his charge than acceptable and peeking his head into the cubicle. Laughing at her shocked, slightly panicked expression, he teased, "and you thought Sonny was over-protective. Just wait until Morgan hears that he knocked you up. If you as much as sneeze, he's going to have you living in a plastic bubble."

"My human bullet shield," the artist spoke slowly, quietly, her calm an attempt to hide her anger at the older man, "was distracting one of your nurses from doing her job properly by flirting with her. Now, I don't know about you, but I don't think that's safe. Perhaps he should go and sit in the waiting room like all the other good _servants._"

"I'm going, I'm going," Francis relented, holding up his hands and backing away from the temperamental patient. "Man," he reflected, taunting her, "midgets really are mean. It must be that whole compensation thing I've heard about."

"Goodbye, Mr. Donovan," the doctor said sternly, giving him the evil eye before pulling the curtain closed. The thin material did little to block out the guard's loud laughter. Turning back to the younger woman, the physician asked, "I take it this pregnancy was unplanned?"

"Yeah," Elizabeth snorted, rolling her eyes. "Where did you go to med school, Irony University?"

"Did you use birth control? Condoms?"

"I was on the pill."

"And is this baby unwanted?"

"I never said that," the former nanny whispered, sudden tears filling her eyes. "It's just…you sprung the news on me rather abruptly, don't you think? Bedside manner isn't exactly your specialty, I've got to tell you."

"Well, the pill is not 100 effective. You had to know there was some risk of becoming pregnant while taking it."

"Of course I did," the brunette admitted, shrugging her shoulders, "but what are the odds that it would happen to me and, of all times, right now?"

"The odds are about one out of fifty."

"I didn't mean literally," Elizabeth shook her head in exasperation before taking a deep breath. "Just tell me what I need to know, please. How far along am I? What should I expect next? And," she paused momentarily, actually thinking before she said anything else, "where can I get some yogurt covered raisons? Do they have those in the hospital cafeteria?"

"No, I don't think so," the doctor answered, chuckling, before standing up from her stool. "You're going to have to make your human bullet shield stop at the store on your way home for those. As for your other questions, I paged Doctor Meadows and she'll be down in a moment to speak with you. For what it's worth, congratulations."

Grinning sincerely, the artist replied to the best wishes. "Thank you. And I'm sorry about being such a bitch. It's been a long morning."

The general practitioner shrugged her shoulders. "It was the hormones," she excused, "and, because of them, you'll be able to be a bitch whenever you want for the next seven months."

"Oh this is going to be fun," Elizabeth murmured to herself after the physician had left, leaving her all alone. Without realizing what she was doing, her right hand went down to tenderly rub her still flat stomach. _Very fun. _

"I'm home," Elizabeth called out blindly an hour and half later as she entered the penthouse. It was well into the afternoon, and she had definitely missed lunch. Stripping off her coat and dropping her purse on Jason's desk…or was it Sonny's now that he was back?...she turned around to make her way into the kitchen for some much needed nourishment when she saw her boyfriend sitting on the couch, watching her closely, and looking apprehensive about more than just her health.

"You were gone for a while."

"Where's Sonny?"

"He went shopping for a new dining room set and rug."

"What, that's crazy," the brunette stated, laughing at the Cuban's antics. "That paint will wash off easily. The pansy is just afraid of a little manual labor."

"You're probably right," Jason agreed, patting the sofa cushion next to him and silently asking her to sit down, "but I didn't argue because it meant we'd have some alone time together to talk."

She quirked a finely sculpted brow at him. "And to finish what we started this morning?"

"Probably not," he answered. Once she was lounged out beside him, he took her hands in his and squeezed her smaller fingers gently. "Tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong; I'm not sick."

"You're not?" The former nanny could hear the doubt in his voice. "But you were at the hospital for a long time."

"You know how it goes, understaffed and overextended," Elizabeth dismissed his concerns. "I'm more concerned about you. It looks like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders right now. Did something happen?" She started to become alarmed. "Is it Michael?"

"Michael's okay as far as I know," the mob boss answered, making her instantly relax, "but what I want to talk to about does concern him."

"Alright…"

"I've been thinking a lot about what happened this morning, and, no matter what I do, I can't get his screams out of my head. It's all I can hear."

Sympathizing with him and understanding what he meant, the brunette curled herself into her boyfriend's side, and he immediately wrapped his arms around her to hold her tight. "I know what you mean," she commiserated. "It sounded like his little heart was breaking."

"And he has to be so confused right now," Jason added. "That's something I never wanted for him, especially if I was the cause."

"But you're not," the artist argued, twisting around in his embrace to meet his gaze. "Carly and A.J. started this whole mess, they're the ones escalating it and making this custody battle nasty, and they're the ones who haven't taken the opportunities they've been given to actually bond with Michael, to put him at ease with them."

"But it's more than that," the blonde Mafioso continued to press. "Michael can sense things. He can tell when those around him, those he loves, are happy or sad or angry, and our moods affect him perhaps more than his own do at this point, and I don't like him being able to sense the animosity between the four of us. It's not healthy for him, and, no matter what the outcome of the case turns out to be, I don't see it ending. If Carly and A.J. win sole custody, we'll keep fighting. If we get joint custody, every time we have to exchange him, we'll fight, and Michael will be able to pick up on that. And if we win custody, then A.J. and Carly will keep fighting. No matter what, it's this never ending succession of hostility that will make Michael feel afraid. I don't want to do that to him."

"Jason," she prompted him, sitting up straighter and holding his face in her hands so that she could look deeply into his dejected, azure orbs. "What are you saying exactly?"

He took a deep breath before responding. "I think I want to drop the custody case, to just…let him go. I'd rather be the responsible parent who puts his needs before my own happiness. If I know he's content, I can love him from afar, but I won't be able to watch him suffer close up and know I could have done something to help him."

"But will he be content?"

"My grandmother will make sure he is. Plus, there's Bobbie," he added. "I know she's done some questionable things in the past, but I've never doubted that she loved Michael. And Monica, despite her flaws and our strained relationship, I know she loves him, too, and she'll do whatever she can to help Lila and keep Carly and A.J. in line."

Despite the situation, Elizabeth found herself laughing. "Is that even possible, controlling those two?"

He shrugged but didn't answer. "What do you think?"

"Honestly, it's hard to imagine my life without Michael in it," the college student responded. Wiping away the tears she felt forming in her eyes, she surprised both of them by crawling into his lap and pulling his arms even tighter around her as if willing his strength to protect her from the pain she was feeling suddenly. "But, remember, I already offered to leave the both of you so that you could retain custody, so I understand where this urge comes from, this urge to do what's best for those you love even if it's not the best thing for you personally. It hurts," she admitted, "but after everything that's happened today, I also think it might be for the best. After all, I'm not sure if I could handle the stress of a custody battle."

"So then you are sick," Jason jumped to conclusions, becoming upset. "Why didn't you tell me right away?"

Turning around in his embrace, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned her forehead against his. "I promise you that I'm not sick." Noticing the skepticism and worry on his face, she continued. "What I am is pregnant."

"What?"

"Pregnant," she repeated, regretting the fact that she had just blurted out the news the same way the doctor had done to her. "You know, expecting, with child, knocked up, in the family…"

"I know what pregnant means, but how?"

"The pill is not always 100 effective. We were one of those atypical couples, I guess." Before he could say anything more, she hurriedly pressed, "and I'm sorry. I know this was not something we planned, and I swear to you that I wasn't trying to trap you or anything. I took my pills every morning religiously…well, obviously not religiously since I might burst into flames if I set foot inside of a church since it's been that long since I went to any type of service, but you know what I..."

"Elizabeth," he interrupted her rambling, "shut up." Taken aback, she puckered her brow at his reaction, but, by the time she realized she was surprised, she was fully immersed in the kiss he had started, the lines of shock replaced with the completely smooth countenance only intense pleasure can give someone. Moaning when his lips left hers, she watched as the mob boss held his hand out expectantly for her. "Give me your pills?"

"My what?"

"Your birth control pills," he demanded, pushing his palm even closer towards her.

"It's a little too late to force feed them to me, but, if you want them that bad, they're yours," she remarked completely bewildered by his behavior. Reaching into her purse and digging around until she found the case, she pulled it out and handed it to him, watching engrossed as he stood up from the sofa and moved towards the trash can positioned beside the desk.

"I'm not making you take them; I'm throwing them away." Flipping open the container, he went to toss them out when he stopped, smirked, and turned back to face her. "Elizabeth, what day is it today?"

"I don't know." Wrinkling her forehead in thought, she suggested, "Wednesday?"

"The last pill you took was for Tuesday."

"So then it's Tuesday," she stated as if realization had set in.

"It's Thursday."

"Oh…" Cringing in silent apology, she offered, "I guess the stress from the trail was already starting to get to me."

"Guess so," he agreed, dropping the birth control into the garbage bin. Crossing the room in three long, quick strides, he came to rest when he was standing directly before her. Without a word, Jason bent forward, lifted her into his arms, and began moving towards the stairs.

"What the hell are you doing? I am not," Elizabeth warned, "going back to bed…again!"

"We're celebrating," he smirked, dropping a roguishly fleeting kiss upon her mouth, "and we have to be quick about it, too, because Sonny is going to be back in a little while to start dinner."

"Oh good," she groaned in appreciation. "I'm starving."

"So am I."

However, she realized as they made their way into their bedroom, her boyfriend's hunger didn't stem from a lack of food. He needed a whole different kind of sustenance. Apparently, his strike was over.

A girl could really get used to having Sonny Corinthos around, Elizabeth decided as she sat on the kitchen counter and watched him make her banana crepes for breakfast. But the food didn't stop there. He also had an assortment of fresh fruit already cut that she was munching on while she watched the amateur chef wield his spatula, and there was fresh squeezed orange juice and real buttermilk which she was surprised to find out she actually liked. The Cuban had balked when she added chocolate powder to it, but, when she turned a warning glare upon him, he backed off and let her have her way.

With her legs swinging freely back and forth like a child, she asked, "you knew, didn't you?"

"Knew what?"

"That I was pregnant."

"I had my suspicions," the former crime boss acknowledged while adjusting the temperature on the stove.

However, his response didn't satisfy her. "How?"

"My wife Lily was pregnant when she died," Sonny answered easily, the admission surprisingly given without emotion. "Although I didn't recognize the signs with her, I knew what to look for with you."

"Well, I know that I had morning sickness, but that was the only sign, right?"

"Wrong," the older man laughed at her naïveté. "You were also emotional, sensitive to certain smells, and you were nesting."

Rolling her eyes at him, Elizabeth exclaimed, "you make me sound like a nut job. I'm pregnant not certifiable."

"For some men those go hand in hand."

"Not funny, Corinthos. Now, tell me. What the hell is nesting?"

"It's where you fuss over cleaning and arranging your home. It's not actually a medical sign of pregnancy but more like an old wives' tale."

"No wonder you're familiar with it," she whispered under her breath. If Sonny heard her, he chose to ignore her comment. Clearing her throat, she asked, "Were we looking at the same penthouse? When you got here yesterday, this place was a disaster zone."

"But when I was cooking, you were constantly trying to wipe up my mess," he pointed out, making her stop her actions abruptly as she reached for a dishrag to clean up some batter he had just spilled. "See what I mean."

"You're such a woman."

"And you're a brat."

She accepted his playful accusation with a simple, unconcerned shrug of her shoulders. "I know."

"So," he prompted her, "what are your plans?"

"What do you mean," Elizabeth snapped, shooting dangers at the Cuban. "Sonny, how could you ask me that? Of course I've having this baby!"

"I meant," he corrected her like a patient parent corrects their wayward child, "are you and Jason going to remain in Port Charles for your pregnancy, or do you want to travel and go somewhere else now that you don't have the custody battle to worry about?"

"Oh, I don't know," she responded while, at the same time, thinking about the older man's inquiry. "We haven't really talked about it, but, even if we wanted to travel, we can only be gone for a week or two at a time, because it's not like he can be away from _the business_ for very long."

"Yes, he can."

"Were you sniffing the furniture polish you were using earlier, Dimples?"

"Dimples?"

"All the guards have nicknames, so why should you be any different?"

"Because I'm not a guard," the Cuban responded. "In fact, in less than twenty-four hours I'll officially be Jason's boss again. I'm back," she smiled, flashing a brilliant smile in her direction, "and I'm not going anywhere for a long time."

"So you're retaking control of the territory?"

"Well, hypothetically speaking, if there was a territory to control, then, yes," he answered, "I'd be retaking said alleged power back which means that the father of your baby would be free to go anywhere you wanted. I was thinking you might want to go to Europe, get away from the all the craziness in this town for a little while, perhaps study abroad after the baby's born."

"And what would you do if you needed Jason?"

"I'd call him…on his cell phone. Perhaps I should add another symptom of pregnancy to my list – imperceptiveness."

"Four words for you, Corinthos," the brunette warned. "I. Have. A. Chisel."

"Point taken," he quickly stopped teasing her. "And, anyway, there really wouldn't be much to do around here that one of the three stooges couldn't handle. I'd have you take your pick of which guard you wanted to go with you, and the other two would split the top duties until you and Jason decided to come back…if you ever did."

"Oh, we'd be back," she assured him. "My Grams is here, and she'd never forgive me if I ran off and never came back to visit. Plus, there's Lila, and all the guys, and I can't forget about you, Dimples."

He let the nickname slide. "So the idea appeals to you?"

"It does," Elizabeth admitted, "but I can't make any decisions until I talk to Jason about it. Did he say whether or not he's coming back home after his meeting with Alexis this morning? I know he tried to tell me something when he left, but I was exhausted."

"Trust me," the Cuban rolled his eyes, motioning for her to get off the counter and move to sit at the kitchen table, "he'll be home, even if it's just to check on you before he leaves again."

"And the fun begins," she good naturedly complained while cutting into her breakfast.

As she chewed a bite of her crepe, she caught Sonny watching her, a newfound respect and admiration glistening in his onyx eyes. Although she wasn't sure what she had said or done to win the older man over, she was glad she had his approval, not that it would deter either she or Jason from pursuing their relationship, but Sonny was important to Jason, so, by connection, he was important now to her as well. He was a part of their rapidly expanding family, and he seemed to fit in well, filling the role of the much needed father figure. Now all she needed was a few more women around to help balance out the testosterone, and she'd be set. Perhaps it was time to find the guards some girlfriends. Johnny, she decided easily, would be her first victim, but, before she got started, she had to finish her crepe…and ask Dimples for a second.

Evidently, pregnancy agreed with her. Now all she had to do was tell her Grandmother the unexpected yet wonderful news.


	24. Chapter 24

_A/N: Alas, this story has ended. I'm sad to see it go, but I'm really excited about what is coming up next. Thanks for making this journey with me through this fic. Enjoy!_

Charlynn

Chapter Twenty-Four

"You are packing those by genre alphabetically, aren't you?"

He snorted. The sound was her boyfriend's equivalent to rolling his eyes.

"Jason!"

"Elizabeth!"

"Children," Sonny entered the room, immediately reprimanding them. "Play nice."

"He won't pack the books the way I want him to," she pouted, even going as far as to push her plump bottom lip out to make her point. "Tell him to do what I say, Dimples."

"Jason, listen to the mother of your child." The former nanny crooked her finger in the Cuban's direction, signaling that she wanted him to move to her side. When he did, she whispered in his ear before he straightened and added to his previous statement. "And the woman who can use her pregnancy as an excuse to not sleep with you for another five and half months."

The stack of books the blonde enforcer was holding fell to the ground with a loud, resounding thud. "That's playing dirty, Webber."

Her eyes twinkled devilishly. "I know. Turnabout is only fair though."

"Besides," he added, "it's not as if you're going to be the one unpacking these boxes anyway. I will be."

"With Johnny's help, and why should he have to suffer for your incompetence?" Nodding her head towards the markers she had arranged on the desk, she instructed, "at least make sure you label the boxes according to the color system I worked out."

Jason strode over to the sharpies. "What these," he asked innocently, picking up the red marker. "What's this one for?"

"The bedroom."

"Appropriate," he commented, shrugging his shoulders and gliding across the room towards her. Sonny simply folded his arms against his chest and watched on, clearly amused. The father-to-be sat down on the sofa, his legs positioned on either side of his girlfriends, took both of her wrists in one of his large hands, and held her arms above her head before pulling the lid off the permanent marker with his mouth. "Close your eyes."

"Wait," Elizabeth protested, squirming underneath him despite knowing she would not be able to escape his grasp. "What are you doing?"

"Making sure the most important item is packed first," he answered, swallowing her complaints with his own mouth to distract her while he wrote her eventual location and use on her chest. Finished and satisfied, he pulled away, separating their lips, and smirked down at her while she glared at him.

"Ass."

Without waiting for her to say more, he slipped his arms around her and lifted her off the couch, tossing her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Her legs kicked out behind her, she fisted her hands to pound them into his lower back, and she attempted to bite his shoulder, but nothing deterred him.

"Put me down," the artist ordered, her voice shrill with frustration. "I'm not kidding. I will withhold sex!"

"You can threaten me all you want, but you'll never carry through. You're in your second trimester now, and you know what they say..."

She stilled, became rigid in his arms, and, when she spoke, her voice was just as cold, just as dispassionate. "There are ways a woman can take care of herself, you know."

Jason laughed as they stepped into the elevator. "Yeah, but where's the fun in that?"

She was silent during the entire ride down to the parking garage, but, when she noticed that her boyfriend was taking her towards the car they were riding in to the airport, she started fighting against him once again. "You can't be serious? I am not sitting in the car while you finish packing. It's going to take you hours!"

"Oh, you're going to sit here," he directed her, dropping her playfully into the backseat and buckling her in. "And you're going to like it."

"Like hell I am!"

"I have a snack for you," Sonny offered, handing the petite brunette a giant bowl of chocolate ice cream with chocolate sauce, chocolate flavored whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles, chocolate powder, and shaved chocolate curls.

"But what if I get thirsty," she asked, still not satisfied.

"I brought you a chocolate milk shake, too," the mob boss replied, putting the beverage in a cup holder.

"Bored," Elizabeth queried.

"I brought you some art supplies, Shrimp," Johnny spoke up for the first time, alerting the college student to his presence. "And I'll even sit down here with you and we'll play 'Name That Tune' together with the radio."

"Oh." Surveying her accommodations in the car, she sighed, lifted a bite of the sundae to her mouth, and then spoke. "Alright," she agreed, grumbling through her food.

Jason bent down to kiss her once more. "I'll use the markers," he promised her.

"And I won't attempt to withhold sex."

"It was a pleasure doing business with you, Webber," he teased, shutting the door for her.

The second time she sighed it was one of contentment and pleasure. It was the first week of May, she had just finished her final exams, completing her junior year of college, and she and her wonderful, attentive, sexy as hell boyfriend were leaving that afternoon for Europe. At three and half months pregnant, Elizabeth had never been happier. Life was good.

Robin Scorpio hated Paris in the summer. For a native resident, nothing was worse than the season which was overrun with tourists. She was on her way to the hospital, but, because she was early, as always, she was taking her time, walking at a leisurely pace down the old brick streets surrounding the Sorbonne. Lost in her own world, those around her faded to the background, disappearing.

"Robin?"

Although the medical student heard her name being called, she ignored it, hoping that it was a mistake or that there was someone else close by who shared her name and knew someone with an unmistakable deep American voice. However, the person was not to be deterred, and, as they stood up in her path, blocking her way, she let her gaze meet theirs only to realize Jason Morgan was in Paris, France and, surprisingly, blending in and looking comfortable there.

The first thought that entered her mind flew out of her mouth seconds later. "What are you doing here?"

He motioned towards the table, both as an invitation for her to join him and to point out the fact that his girlfriend was sitting there at his side. "We're here to get Elizabeth enrolled for the upcoming spring semester. She's going to study abroad for her final year of school."

Accepting, Robin sat down before addressing the other woman, the other glowing, exultant woman. "I'm sure that will be very beneficial to you as an artist. Where are you studying this fall?"

"Oh, I'm not. I'm taking a semester off." Before continuing, Elizabeth linked her fingers with Jason's. "Once we're done here, we're going to Italy, and we're going to stay there until January when we'll come back to Paris. From there, we're thinking either Spain or Portugal for my final semester next fall."

"But what about Port Charles, the business, Michael?"

"Sonny's back, and we don't have custody of Michael anymore; Carly and A.J. do."

"But we talk to him every night," the former nanny added, smiling brightly at the thought of the little boy they both loved so much. "And Lila and Reginald are planning to come and see us during Christmas, and they'll bring Michael with them then."

"Well," the brown eyed brunette stated, sitting back in shock. "Things have certainly changed in a year's time."

"It has," Jason agreed with his former girlfriend before helping his current one up. "We'll see you around, Robin."

The future doctor waved after them, calling out, "enjoy Italy," but the words faded on her thin lips as she noticed the slight bulge to Elizabeth's stomach, an obvious sign that the happy couple was expecting a child of their own, and, despite the fact that the love she felt for the blonde enforcer was now that of friendship, she couldn't help the slight twinge of jealousy she felt towards the younger woman he currently had his arm wrapped protectively around. Two years before, a life, a future, a child with Jason was something she had been dreaming of herself, and now those dreams were coming true for someone else. Sighing, she pushed her chair away from the small, patio table, gathered her things, and proceeded to make her way towards the hospital. Although her life was good, Robin knew Elizabeth's was better.

"Would you like another scone, Mrs. Quartermaine?"

"Sonny," the matriarch chastised him flirtatiously, "how many times do I have to tell you? It's Lila, please. As for the scone, no thank you. However, if you wouldn't mind, could you wrap a couple up for Reggie? He has a soft spot for your cooking."

"It would be my pleasure," the Cuban agreed, smiling at the older woman with his dimples on full display. "Where did he get off to anyway?"

"Oh, Mr. Giambetti is teaching him how to pick a lock. Reggie and I thought the skill might come in handy when Edward starts to get out of line planning one of his corrupt schemes."

"I'm sure it will." Standing up from the dining room table, the mob boss went towards the kitchen, but a knock on the door made him pause.

"Sorry to disturb you," Francis apologized when he stuck his head into the penthouse, "but she would not take no for an answer. She demanded that you speak with her."

Before Sonny could respond, Carly pushed her way into his home. "Where the hell is Jason?"

"I sincerely hope you do not use that language in front of my great-grandson," Lila reprimanded the younger woman. "I want him to grow up to be a gentleman."

"What are you doing here," the bottle blonde demanded to know. "Does Edward know that you're here?"

"Sonny and I have tea together once a week now," the head of the Quartermaine family answered. "We discuss the loved ones we have in common, and I really don't care if Edward knows about our dates or not, because, frankly, in this matter, my husband's opinion matters very little to me. However, I think the better question here should be why are you here, Caroline?"

"I need to speak with Jason."

With a smug smile, the Cuban informed her, "I'm afraid that's impossible. He's out of town."

"Well, when do you expect him back?"

"Probably not until Christmas," he answered, chuckling silently to himself when he watched the caustic woman's mouth drop open in shock and disbelief. Adding fuel to her already simmering fire, he added, "of next year."

"He left," Carly sputtered, angry, "just like that? What about his family? What about Michael?"

"Oh, they speak to Michael everyday," Lila stated, a mischievous twinkle to her crystal clear blue eyes.

"They?"

"Yes, Caroline," the mob boss explained, "they – as in Jason and Elizabeth."

Furrowing her brow in confusion, the younger woman inquired, "why did he leave in the first place? Did you chase him out of town to keep him away from me?"

"I didn't have to do anything to turn Jason against you," Sonny responded. "The moment you decided to take Michael away from him you destroyed any loyalty he might have felt towards you at one time."

"I wouldn't have done that," the peroxide blonde seethed, "if Princess Purity wouldn't have gotten her claws into him."

"So you punished my grandson for falling in love," Lila realized, shaking her head in disappointment. "That just proves that you never deserved his friendship in the first place, Caroline."

Balling her hands into fist, Carly gritted her teeth together while speaking. "Just tell him that I need to talk to him the next time he calls."

"I will…if I get the chance," Sonny offered. "You see, they're really busy right now."

"What, is the Muffin keeping him occupied by spending all of his money?"

"Actually, no," the Cuban replied with a wide grin. "They're getting ready for the baby." Twisting the knife even deeper, he pressed, "the baby that Elizabeth is carrying, the one that she'll never try to take away from him. Now," he moved towards the door and held it open for the younger woman who was on the verge of tears, "I'm sure you'll be able to find your way out. Don't come back."

Although the method was unconventional, in a conversation that lasted only a few minutes, Sonny was able to pay Carly back for the all the pain she had caused his best friend and the woman his best friend loved, and the fact that he could do so while smiling only made the revenge that much sweeter. Looking across the room, he noticed a pleased smirk on the Quartermaine matriarch's gentle face and knew that she enjoyed the moment just as much as he did. He couldn't wait to tell the story to Elizabeth.

Climbing off his motorcycle, Jason made his way towards the villa they were renting, stripping off his leather jacket in the process. The late August evening was warm, so there was no need for a coat now that he was done riding. After being gone for five days, all he wanted to do was find Elizabeth and spend as much time with her as he could. Although she would argue with him, he knew that he would find something different about her due to the wonders of pregnancy, and he gloried in each and every one of those changes occurring within her body. But, before he could make it into the house, he spotted Johnny sitting alone out in the rose garden, the table he was working at covered in manila folders and paperwork. Despite the Irish guard's casual appearance, he looked tense.

"What's going on?"

The green eyed man jumped, startled by his boss, a move that set Jason's radar on extra-sensitive. No one ever surprised the younger man. He was always aware, always present in the moment. That was what made him a good employee. "Oh, hey," Johnny greeted him with a small wave. "When did you get back? We weren't expecting you for couple more days."

"I finished early," the enforcer answered, squinting and eyeing the other man carefully. "Is something wrong? Elizabeth's alright, isn't she?"

"She's knuckle deep into a bowl of tapioca pudding; she's fine."

"Then what has you so…wired?"

Lifting up one of the folders, the guard let it fall back to the table with a resounding slap. "This assignment Webber has me working on."

Jason smirked, rubbed the side of his face where almost a week of stubble was stubbornly growing. "She's giving you assignments now?"

"Do you want to argue with a pregnant lady?" The older man chuckled, nodding his head in no and agreeing with Johnny. "That's what I thought."

"So, what is this that you're working on?"

"Your girlfriend has me finding you a part time nanny."

Hiding his grin, Jason furrowed his brows and asked, "what?"

"Yeah, she says that you guys will need someone who can come in a few hours a day a couple of times a week so that she can paint and you can work on your bike or so that you can go into town together and have alone time. I told her I'd watch the kid, but she said I shouldn't be tied down to the villa the whole time either, so here I am trying to do the impossible."

"And you don't have any good applicants," the hit man pressed, curious as to why the other man looked so frazzled.

"Oh no," Johnny argued, throwing his hands up, "every damn applicant is perfect. They're all in their early 20's, speak English so that I can actually understand them, and they all love kids. Hell, some of them are even trained in self defense."

"And why would that be needed?"

"I don't know," the bodyguard shrugged, "but it's damn hot. If I didn't know better, I'd say that Webber put out a personal ad and not a help wanted one."

"Well, just go with your gut," Jason suggested. "Trust your instincts."

"My instincts are telling me to hire this blonde who has these legs that go on for miles."

Covering his smirk with his hand, the enforcer asked, "and this is important why exactly?"

"You know," Johnny blushed, looking away. "It shows that she's…in shape, that she'll be able to carry around a baby."

"Aw, of course. What else do you know about her?"

"She's willing to relocate," the security expert added, "says she'll go wherever we need her if she's hired. Her background checks out, and she's got the smartest mouth I've heard in years. She caught me looking down her blouse, and told me off so well I think my ears are still ringing."

"And that's the problem; that's why you don't think we should hire her?"

"Hell no," the Irishman contradicted. "That's why I want you to. Any woman who can put me in my place with a few snarky words, well, let's just say that I won't be able to keep my hands off of her. And that is the problem. Before her first week's even up, I'll have seduced your nanny away from you and into my bed."

Jason stood up and moved towards the house, knowing that his friend's gaze was following his every move as he waited for some advice. Speaking over his shoulder, he advised, "hire her. I was attracted to Elizabeth when I first met her, and look how well that's turned out." Just as he was about to make it into the house, he stopped and turned around, needing to ask just one more question. "By the way, O'Brien, what's her name?"

"Mary," the guard sighed. His only comfort as he wallowed in his own confusion was the sound of his boss' laughter as the older man made his way into the house to find the woman he loved. Johnny's own words had come back to bite him in the ass…hard.

A month later and four weeks before Elizabeth's due date, Jason was making his way through the villa in search of his very pregnant girlfriend. While he had gone to town to pick up some more books, she had stayed at home to rest, claiming exhaustion, and, at that stage of her pregnancy, he knew that she should be tired. However, she wasn't in the kitchen, she wasn't in either of the two living rooms, and she wasn't in the bedroom they shared or the room they had designated as the temporary nursery, so he was starting to get worried. Apparently, as she called out for him, she had heard him wandering around the big, old house.

"Jason, I'm in the bathroom."

Following her voice into the ensuite, he found her lounging in a bubble bath, the room lit only with the soft light of candles. "Are you okay?"

"Braxton Hicks Contractions," she answered without opening her eyes or stopping her deep breathing, "and, before you ask, they're not the real thing. I've had them all afternoon, and they haven't progressed at all, but they were starting to become uncomfortable."

Stripping off his shoes, the father-to-be asked, "did you try taking a walk, moving around?"

"I paced the hallways."

"And?"

"Didn't help," Elizabeth replied shrugging. "Neither did drinking a couple glasses of water, so, obviously, I'm not dehydrated. All that did was make me have to pee five times in an hour's time span."

"Why didn't you call me? I would have hurried back."

"There's nothing you can do to help." Sighing, the brunette cradled her swollen abdomen, caressing the taunt skin in the hope that her actions would sooth not only their rambunctious child but also her contracting muscles. "Did you find some books?"

"Yeah," he answered. Smirking at her closed eyes, he continued to get undressed while he talked. "I picked up a travel guide on both Spain and Portugal, so we can look over them together and figure out which you would rather go to."

"Mmm," his girlfriend murmured her approval, "sounds good."

Moving towards the tub, Jason directed her to sit up.

"What," the former nanny's eyes snapped open as she turned her head to the side, finally realizing that he was now nude as well. "Why?"

"So I can get in there with you."

Without a word, she did as he said, scooting forward in the whirlpool so that he could sit behind her and wrap his body around hers. Once they were settled against each other, his larger hands replacing hers on her belly, she turned her head to place a lingering kiss upon his damp shoulder. Whispering, she taunted, "I told you I'd get you to take a bubble bath with me one day."

They were the last words either of them spoke for well over an hour.

It was late October, but the days were still mild enough to sit outside, even with a two week old baby. Joining Elizabeth and their daughter, Jemma Jane Morgan, on the blanket his girlfriend had spread out in the now harvested sunflower field behind their villa, he pulled his girls into his arms and held them while Elizabeth breast fed. Nothing was said between them, but it was a comfortable silence, something he had only ever been able to experience with the woman clasped tightly in his strong embrace. By the time the baby was done eating, she was asleep and resting peacefully on Elizabeth's chest, so he laid down on the blanket, gently pulled the mother of his child down to lay her head against his chest, and let his fingers sift through her rich, long chocolate hair as the sun overhead turned the brown locks a myriad of various hues, shades of color he didn't recognize but knew that Elizabeth could name each and every one.

"What did Johnny think of his surprise?"

"He's feeling pretty bittersweet, I think," the blonde enforcer answered. "I know that both he and Mary are excited to be going home, about settling into a place together, but I don't think either of them want to leave you or JJ."

"And Max?"

"He's freaking out," Jason admitted with a soft chuckle. "Sonny listened to your instructions and kept Mary a secret from all the other guys. When Max heard that you set Johnny up on a fake assignment to find a nanny and that now his good friend is in a committed relationship with one of those applicants, he thinks he's next to be matched up."

Elizabeth smirked. "He is."

"Well, I had to threaten him with his life to keep him here. He was planning on skipping town and heading home with Johnny and Mary when we weren't looking."

The artist met his gaze and admitted, "I'm not going to do anything until we get to Paris. I want him to forget about his fears and become comfortable around me again before I pull the rug out from underneath him. Besides, I'm going to have to think of something new, because we know Max isn't going to fall for the same nanny trick."

"And once you have him set up with someone," Jason prompted.

"Then he'll go home with his new girlfriend, and I'll have Sonny send Francis out. I think he'll be the hardest nut to crack though, so that's why I'm saving him for last. That man is very set in his bachelor ways, and I'm going to need to be on the top of my game to fool him into falling in love. Besides, Johnny told me that he has a weak spot for dark the mysterious type, so I figured Spain and Portugal will be our best bet for him."

"It's a good thing I'm happily engaged to you," he realized, lifting her left hand to brush his lips across her ring. It was an opal, Jemma's birthstone, and Jason had liked how the light danced inside it and made the stone glow like fire. "Otherwise, you'd probably be trying to set me up, too."

"Nah, you're staying right here with me," she warned him, "so don't go getting any ideas."

He simply smiled, enjoying their light banter back and forth. "And what about Sonny?"

"I don't want to rush Dimples. I think he needs to be alone for a while. He's already been hurt by love twice. He needs to recover from both Lily and Brenda before he even thinks about getting involved with another woman. But someday…"

They fell silent for a moment, but, as soon as she started to fidget in his arms, Jason knew there was something else on her mind. "Alright, just tell me what's wrong."

"I was doing some research today."

"About…"

"New York Custody Laws," Elizabeth answered. Sitting up, she handed their daughter to him, so she could focus her attention solely upon what she was saying. "I was talking to Lila last night after you got off the phone, and she was telling me that Michael still asks for us everyday. So, curious, I checked to see if there was a certain age in which the state court recognizes the child's choice to choose his or her parents."

Jason had not been expecting this, but he liked the direction in which their conversation was moving. "What did you find out?"

"There isn't a magic age." Despite himself, he felt his face fall into lines of disappointment. "However," the former nanny continued, "that does not mean that the court will not listen to a child's wishes. Because Michael's so young though, the court would consider why he prefers one parent or another instead of simply granting him his preference. Once he's old enough to speak and to understand the consequences of his actions, your Grandmother would like to petition the court and request that custody be given back to us, and she could use Michael's choice to help back up her claims."

"So," he realized, hope entering his cobalt gaze, "what you're saying is that, by the time we return home to Port Charles, we might get our son back without having to put him through a custody case."

"Maybe," Elizabeth responded, shrugging her shoulders. Although the motion appeared indifferent, he could see the anticipation and faith shining through on her beautiful face.

Holding her chin, he pulled her towards him and kissed her softly. The embrace was meant to be sweet and reverent, but, before they both knew what was happening, it was anything but, and, when they pulled away from each other, they were both breathing heavily.

Lying back down on the blanket, Elizabeth snuggled into his side as he wrapped his free arm around her. Jemma slept on contentedly. Finally, just as he was about to fall asleep as well, he felt his fiancé lean up and brush her lips across his ear before whispering, "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!," and giggling.

And they really were that happy.


End file.
